


We've Been On This Path Before

by vassalady



Category: Avengers (Comics), Captain America (Comics)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Artist Steve Rogers, Boredom, Distrust, Dogs, Drama, Family Drama, Kid Fic, Kidnapping, Luxury, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Rekindled Romance, Romance, Tabloids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 22:38:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 46,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2484827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vassalady/pseuds/vassalady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years ago, Steve and Tony were the it couple over all the magazines. Now, Steve lives with his four-year-old son, Ian, in a shabby apartment. It’s not perfect, but life is good. Then, Tony shows up at their door and asks for Steve to come back.</p><p>Steve isn’t sure that getting back together with Tony is the right thing. There’s so much history between them, and he has Ian to think of. But Tony could provide opportunities for Ian that Steve can’t. And, underneath it all, he still loves Tony even after all these years. </p><p>It will take time and a lot of work to find the life he wants for him and his son. However, secrets both old and new may prove a threat that will cost them dearly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [Marvel Big Bang](http://marvel-bang.livejournal.com/)
> 
> This is accompanied by the [below banner and art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2484713) by [knowmefirst](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Knowmefirst)! Let them know what you think!! There are four lovely watercolors that relate to the first four parts, so be sure to check them out!
> 
> This was such a blast to write. It’s been months since I first imagined this, and it all started out with Ian and Steve living alone - but Steve used to be the hot boyfriend of billionaire Tony Stark. And thus it got dubbed “Trophy Wife Steve,” and it’s been a long journey to get to this point!
> 
> And why yes, this IS the first in a series, because I fully intend to write all that history that keeps getting mentioned. ;)
> 
> Thank you so much to knowmefirst for doing wonderful art for this! It’s absolutely gorgeous! When I saw the banner, I just about melted, and the watercolor paintings are lovely! The one with Steve and Ian is just so so cute!
> 
> Thank you so much to dr_fumbles_mcstupid for beta reading this (and assuring me it wasn’t terrible)! Thank you so much to Amuly for assorted help and cheerleading, to kalakirya for listening to me ramble early on, and to analise010 and miss_marina95 for cheering me on as well as so many others. Thank you to both my twitter and tumblr followers for listening to me when things got tough. And thank you to the mods of Marvel Big Bang for running the challenge! Thank you, all!
> 
> (I feel I should mention as well that I've only read the issues of Ian as a kid so far [none where he is an adult] and mostly have read comics spanning the decades from the 60s through the early 90s. Nothing much recent or in the past ten years. So that is where I'm drawing characterization from.)

Ian’s earliest memory was of his dad reading him a book.

He couldn’t remember what book; it probably had misunderstood monsters, because Ian always liked those best. He remembered the way his dad’s voice rumbled through his body as he read. They were curled up underneath the blanket on their bed, nothing more than a mattress on the floor, and Ian couldn’t stop giggling because his dad’s beard was tickling his neck.

Ian really liked his dad’s beard. He’d run his fingers through it, combing it out. Sometimes, his dad would undo the ponytail he wore at the base of his neck and let Ian play with it, twisting it into knots and then trying to untangle it. His dad laughed a lot, even as he winced. More than his beard, Ian really liked his dad’s laugh. It filled up the small apartment they lived it, which just had the one bigger room, the tiny bedroom that really only fit the mattress, and a bathroom with a tub that was always leaking.

His dad would leave for several hours most days. Ian stayed with the neighbor, whose name he couldn’t properly pronounce, so he just called her Mrs. K. He liked Mrs. K a lot. She made him all these weird dishes that had even stranger names than her own.

Once, Ian asked where her husband was. She got this sad look in her eye and said, “He’s been gone a long time.”

Ian knew that Mrs. K wasn’t _old_. Not like grandmas and grandpas were supposed to be old, and not like Ms. Anna who owned the building. She didn’t look any older than his dad. But she was still a grown up, and he couldn’t guess what a long time was.

Although his dad came home tired, shoulders a little slumped, he always picked Ian up and spun him around. They would spend the hours reading a stack of books from the library, either together, or sometimes his dad would read one of his own just word books, and Ian would page through his favorite picture ones, pretending to read the words. He had memorized his most favorite ones by heart, though, so he didn’t need to read them.

Sometimes, his father would sit on the floor, a giant clipboard leaning against the wall and holding a sheet of paper, and he’d draw on it with chalk or crayons or pencils. Ian liked watching him draw. His dad drew Ian a lot of the time, like when he would fall asleep over a book or when he was eating his dinner. He also drew strangers. There were stacks of pictures of people Ian didn’t know, but his dad must have, because he drew them again and again.

Ian didn’t know any kids his age. He’d seen some bigger kids around the apartment complex sometimes. There was a girl upstairs who had two moms, but she scared Ian a little. Ian didn’t mind. He had his dad, which was the most important thing, and he had Mrs. K, and he even had two really great uncles, Uncle Bucky and Uncle Sam. There was also Aunt Natasha, though she was usually gone if Ian and his dad went to visit Uncle Bucky.

He also had a sister, but he didn’t know much about her. All he had was a photo of her. It was torn, like there had been more to it, and she wore a solemn expression and a plain black dress. She was quite older in it than he was now, and she had written words on the back in big, blocky, unsteady letters. Ian made his dad read it to him until he memorized the words, and even then, he asked him to read it sometimes, because he liked the way the words rumbled through his dad’s chest as Ian leaned into him.

_TAKE CARE OF MY BROTHER._

Ian asked, “This is my sister, right?”

“Yes,” his dad replied.

“But you’re not her dad.”

“No.”

Ian frowned, staring at the photo. He wasn’t sure how that worked; all the books said that there was a mommy and a daddy and sisters and brothers had the same mommy and daddy. But he decided there were different kinds of family, ones that had daddies and no mommies, or the opposite, like the family on the top floor, or just one of them, or many of them. He understood this, because he spied on the other families that lived there while Mrs. K was supposed to be watching him, and there were a lot of different people. He knew his family was strange, too, because Uncle Sam and Uncle Bucky weren’t his dad’s brothers.

“Maybe I’ll meet her one day,” Ian said.

His father didn’t reply. He just kissed the back of Ian’s head softly.

Ian was happy, but his dad got a look in his eyes sometimes. He would stare off in the distance, and it would be like Mrs. K when she talked about her husband. Ian didn’t want his dad to be sad, so he curled up around him. His dad would pull him into his lap and pet his hair. They would just sit together for a long time like that.

His dad had a whole stack of drawings, and Ian loved watching his dad draw. He would curl up and watch his dad sketch, pen or pencil moving over the paper. He drew Ian somteimes, which was the best, but sometimes (again getting that sad look), he would draw people Ian didn’t know.

It was simple, and it was the only life Ian knew. He was happy, because he had his dad.

Then one day, Ian’s whole world shifted.

It was early in the evening. Ian was just finishing his supper; his dad had already finished his and was washing the plate in the sink, only a few feet away. Everything was only a few feet away in their apartment.

There was a knock on the door. That was strange. Mrs. K usually didn’t bother them this late in the day, and his dad would tell him if someone was coming over. A few times, one of the neighbors had come over to talk with his dad for a few minutes, but for the most part, it was just the two of them in the evenings.

His dad wiped his hands on a pink polka-dotted dish towel on his way to the front door. He was still carrying it, now a little too damp, when he opened the door and froze.

There was a man there, almost his dad’s height, maybe a little shorter, with dark hair and light eyes. He also had a beard, but his was trimmed neatly into a little circle around his mouth, not full like Ian’s dad’s. His eyes were red and puffy, like he’d been crying, and he wore a suit. But his red shirt was open at the chest, several buttons undone. He looked a mess, like he had been crying. Ian felt a little fear run through him.

“Steve,” the man said. It came out as a heavy sigh, but it was also strained. His voice caught on the name. “Steve. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s done, it’s over, I’m good now, I’m clean, I promise, I won’t… Never again, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He babbled on like that, repeating he was sorry, he wouldn’t do it ever again, he’d changed, it would all be different now. He stepped forward, his hands coming up to Ian’s dad’s shoulders, and the man’s eyes danced around over his dad’s face. “Please, Steve, believe me. I’m good now, I swear. For a long time.”

“Tony,” his dad said, and it, too, came out both as a sad sigh, but tight, too. “You’ve said that before.”

“I got help, I swear, this time I did.” The man - Tony - stepped closer. He was inside the apartment, only inches away from Ian’s dad, and Ian didn’t know what to do. “Please believe me.”

He leaned in, and then Tony was kissing Ian’s dad. His father didn’t move for a long moment, but then his arms came up around Tony, and he was kissing him back. The damp dish towel was still in his hand and rested against Tony’s shoulder.

Ian sunk low into his chair. It was a fold up one and usually leaned against the wall with the fold up table. It wasn’t very good for hiding in. It was too rickety and unsteady. But this seemed like something Ian shouldn’t be there for; it was weird and foreign and made Ian think too much about all the times his dad got really sad and drew all those faces Ian didn’t know.

He thought that this man looked a little like one of those faces.

“Steve,” Tony was mumbling into the kiss, “oh, Steve.”

The chair beneath Ian squeaked, and his dad and Tony broke apart. Tony still kept his grip on Ian’s dad, but he looked with unfocused eyes for a minute at Ian. Then his vision cleared, eyes widening, and said, “You have a kid?”

Ian’s dad just said, firmly, “Yes.”

Tony didn’t turn away from Ian as he said again, “A kid…”

“Ian?” his dad said, and Ian sat bolt upright, the chair wobbling. “Can you go to the bedroom, please?”

Ian slipped off the chair and was in the bedroom, door shut, in seconds. He threw himself on the mattress, reached out for the lamp, and turned it on. He pulled the quilt over his head, leaving enough of an opening for light to peak through, and pulled a book toward him. He stared at the pictures as he heard voices murmuring behind him. They were speaking too low, though, which had to be really quiet, because the walls in the building were thin.

Ian gave up looking at the book and pulled out the picture of his sister instead. She looked out at him, grim and distant. She wasn’t like his dad, who hugged him and laughed and held him when he was sick. She was just a picture, but she felt safer to him, better than the strange man who was out there crying and talking to his dad.

At some point, Ian must have fallen asleep, because he heard the click of the light and the mattress sinking beneath his father’s weight. His father sighed, and Ian scooted over to let him settle down properly. Then he let his father pull him in so that Ian’s back was pressed against his dad’s chest.

“Are you okay?” Ian asked. He wasn’t sure if his dad heard him or not, because it was a long time before he replied.

“Yeah. I am.” He pressed his lips to Ian’s hair. “Go back to sleep.”

Ian did, at least for a while. But he woke up again to his dad crying softly. Ian had never heard his dad cry, so he lay there frozen, pretending to be asleep, as his dad cried for a long time.

\--

In the morning, Ian’s dad packed up their things in one fraying suitcase. There really wasn’t much other than their clothes, his dad’s drawings, and a few things Ian had gotten for his last birthday, including a small stuffed bird he called Redwing from Uncle Sam and a couple books.

There was another knock on the door, and this time it was a different man, much shorter, fatter, and a little awkward. He didn’t look very happy, although that’s what his dad called him. Ian’s dad refused his help, picking up their things with one hand and taking Ian’s hand with his other.

They walked out to a long black limousine. Ian stared, eyes wide, mouth open. The happy man rushed ahead to open the back door, but Ian couldn’t move. It took a few tugs from his dad before he stumbled after him and into the car.

Ian sat stiffly in his seat, hands folded in his lap. He felt like he was at church the few times his dad had taken him, where he wasn’t allowed to touch anything, and he had to stay still.

His father reached over and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be ok, Ian,” he said. “I promise.”

Ian looked up into his father’s eyes, shockingly blue and beautiful. Ian often wished he had his dad’s eyes. They were warm and comforting and made Ian feel safe.

The drive took a long time, but at last, they pulled up in front of a huge mansion, and Ian stared again, barely able to walk. He was half dragged past the brick wall and wrought iron gate, through the carefully tended lawn, and up to the vast doors. They opened, seemingly on their own, and in front of them, an old man stood, a welcoming smile on his face.

“Mr. Rogers,” he said inclining his head, “a pleasure to see you.”

“Jarvis,” Ian’s dad said, and his face broke out into a smile.

Jarvis looked down at Ian, smile turning into a grin. “And the young Mr. Rogers, welcome.”

Ian felt his face heat, and he ducked behind his dad.

Jarvis led them in, where a pretty red-haired woman greeted them. She brought his dad into a hug, and she held out her hand to shake Ian’s. “Pepper Potts,” she said. “It’s good to meet you.”

Jarvis led Ian’s dad away while Ian went with Ms. Potts. He panicked; he didn’t want to leave his dad. He’d never been without him except for when he was with Mrs. K. But Ms. Potts kept a firm grip on his hand as she led him through the halls. She talked all the while, and Ian only half paid attention.

“Your name is Ian, right?” she said brightly. “I’m sure you’ll love it here. The gardens provide a lot of space to run around in the summer, and in the winter, if we get the right snow, there’s enough space for an army of snowmen. And just wait until you see your room, it’s a kid’s dream come true.”

But Ian had a room, and it was back in their apartment, with their mattress on the floor. Ms. Potts eventually stopped in front of a door, and it looked like all the others, a little too ornate and shut.

“Here we are,” she said with a smile. “Ready?”

Ian nodded his head, because he thought that’s what she wanted.

Ms. Potts opened the door, and Ian couldn’t believe his eyes. It was like a toy store had been upended in the room, the walls covered floor to ceiling in stuffed animals, action figures, dolls, blocks, Legos, construction sets, race car toys, weird shaped things that probably lit up and played music, and who knew what else. In the middle of it all was a huge four poster bed, with a giant comforter covered in little aliens. It, too, was half buried under toys.

“Wow,” was the only thing he could think to say.

“Go on in, have fun.” Ms. Potts gave him a little nudge.

Ian walked into the middle of the room. It was bigger than his whole home. He turned in a slow circle, just staring.

“What do you think?”

She seemed a little desperate for an answer, so Ian cleared his throat and said, “It’s nice.”

 _It’s nice_ was something his dad said when he didn’t know what else to say. It sounded silly, but Ian really didn’t know what to say.

“Are there books?” he said at last. He didn’t see any among the mess of things. It was probably best, since he and his dad always went to the library to pick out books themselves. It’d be a little disappointing if they were already checked out.

Ms. Potts bit her lip, eyes scanning the room. “Not at the moment, but we can certainly buy you some. What do you like?”

Ian just looked up at her with wide eyes.

That seemed to unbalance her, as her smile slipped. “Well, why don’t you get settled, and I’ll send in someone to help give you a bath. You like baths?”

“Yeah,” Ian said with a nod. “My dad blows the bubbles all over the place.”

Ms. Potts hummed. “Well, let me go get someone then.”

She was pulling the door behind her, and Ian blurted out, “Where’s my dad?”

Her smile slipped back in place. “You’ll see him a little later, he’s just getting washed up and settled in, too.”

The door shut. Ian looked around the room again. There were windows on the far side, and he wandered over to them. He peered out, and he was surprised to see Tony in the gardens below, gesturing with one held while the other held a cellphone to his ear. Ian stared for longer than he probably should have, but he didn’t know exactly what they were doing there, or who this Tony was.

Ian slipped away from the window to the floor. He wished he hadn’t stuck his sister’s picture into one of the books. He’d have liked to have her with him right then. He really wanted his father, but he wasn’t sure where to even look.

Ian went to the door and pulled it open a crack. He glanced out, but there was no one in the hall. There were a lot of doors and hallways in the house; his dad had to be behind one of them.

Just as he pulled it wider and stepped out, a couple of women came walking briskly down the hall. They saw him and started speaking excitedly between one another. Ian just stayed where he was, not sure if he should duck back in or make a run for it.

“Ian, right?” said one of the women as they got nearer. She was the more striking of the two with dark pink hair. Ian nodded. The women smiled and herded him back in the room.

There were a few doors hidden among all the toys, and the women opened one to reveal a huge bathroom. The tub was easily twice as big as the one back home, plus there were two sinks, and a really fancy toilet. Then there were more cupboards than Ian could count.

The water was turned on, and soaps were added, funny, smelly ones, and soon Ian was being dropped in, completely naked.

It was scary, having these women wash him, and the water was alternately too cold and too hot, but they didn’t seem to notice. From all their scrubbing, he felt raw.

They chatted amongst one another, like it was nothing to them.

“Since when did Stark have a kid?” one asked.

The woman with pink hair replied, “Special guests, not his,” she said. “Otherwise, he didn’t say. Of course, only maybe a quarter of what we brought will even roughly fit. Oh, Tanya, pass the shampoo.”

At least they didn’t get the shampoo in his eyes, but when they started working the conditioner in, trying to comb his hair, it hurt.

He was bundled into a large, fluffy towel, the two women still chatting away. It was the softest towel he’d ever felt.

They sat him on a stool, towel thrown over his shoulders, and a pair of scissors and a razor came out.

“Now what should we do with this?” one of them said, picking up a lock of hair.

Ian’s dad cut his hair, and they left it pretty long most of the time. Right now, it reached just past his shoulders, but it was a bit uneven after the last trim he’d had.

Ian bit his lip and shut his eyes tightly as they went to work.

\--

What followed consisted of more poking and prodding than Ian had ever had in his life. They measured him and made him try many clothes on. They pinned, tucked, and hummed to each other and made him turn around again and again.

Ian kept shaking his head a little. His head felt so light. Whenever he had a free arm, he raised it to run his fingers over his spiky short hair. It felt a little like his dad’s beard when he trimmed it. His dad’s beard was okay short, but Ian didn’t like his hair like that.

When they were (thankfully) done, it wasn’t Ms. Potts that came back, but Jarvis. Jarvis smiled kindly and held out his hand. “Would you like some lunch, sir?”

That’s when Ian’s stomach took the opportunity to rumble loudly. He hadn’t eaten breakfast (they had left pretty much first thing in the morning), and he had been so distracted by everything going on, he hadn’t noticed the time passing.

He took Jarvis’s hand, and they entered the maze of hallways. “Where’s my dad?” he asked as they walked.

“Mr. Rogers is still with his tailor. Then he has a lunch with Mr. Stark,” Jarvis replied. He had an accent that rolled over the vowels in unfamiliar ways and clipped off the ends of words. Ian liked it.

“Oh,” he said. He looked at his feet as they walked.

They entered a kitchen, and like everything else there, it was far too big. There was more than one fridge, cupboards everywhere, and lots of counterspace. There were also a lot of people bustling about. They weren’t so much cooking as just preparing.

“What’s all this for?” Ian asked, watching people in white clothes and aprons move back and forth, shouting to one another.

“Getting ready for the party tonight.”

Jarvis led him to a quiet corner that let Ian watch, but keep out of the way. “Now, what would you like?”

Ian thought about this hard. “A peanut butter sandwich,” he said finally.

“And would the young sir like jelly on that?”

“My name’s Ian,” he said, before adding, “No, just peanut butter.”

“Very well, then, Ian,” Jarvis said with a smile.

Jarvis moved between the busy people like a ghost. He wasn’t sure how he managed that, but wherever the cooks needed to go, Jarvis was already out of the way. He moved through the crowd swiftly and made Ian’s peanut butter sandwich.

When he presented the plate to Ian, the crusts were cut off, and it had been cut into triangles. “Thanks,” Ian said in a quiet voice.

“Would you like anything to drink? Milk? Lemonade?”

Ian opted for the milk, and he carefully went about eating his sandwich. He still had the feeling of being in church and not allowed to make a mess, so he did his best not to.

When he had finished, Jarvis used his special ability to lead Ian to a sink to wash up, before escaping the bustle of the kitchen.

“What’s the party for?” Ian asked as they walked back to the room with the toys. Ian didn’t really want to go; he wanted his dad, but Jarvis had said he was going out with someone.

“An engagement party for two of Mr. Stark’s friends,” Jarvis said. “It’s a small affair, only around one hundred people.”

Ian stared up at Jarvis, mouth open. “A hundred?” That was a lot.

When they got to Ian’s room, Jarvis asked if he would be alright alone for a while. Jarvis had some things to do, but there were lots of toys to keep Ian occupied.

“I want my books. And Redwing.”

Jarvis smiled kindly and led Ian to the bed stand, where his books had been stacked neatly, the stuffed bird laid carefully on top.

When Jarvis was gone, Ian curled up in the window seat, looking out at the garden, his hawk tucked against his chest along with the photo of his sister.

\--

It was evening when Jarvis dropped off some dinner (macaroni and cheese as well as something called asparagus). The minute Ian was done eating, one of the women from that morning bustled in to clean him up and dress him up in a small suit that he had tried on that morning.

“Now,” the woman said, bending down, “I think there’s someone who’s excited to see you, my handsome young man.” She stepped outside, holding the door mostly closed behind her, and then disappeared. There was murmuring, and then, a moment later, his dad pushed open the door.

He looked different; the beard was gone, his hair was short, and he wore a black tuxedo. His eyebrows rose as he looked down at Ian, but his face still broke out into a grin.

“Hey, son,” he said.

“Dad!” His dad bent down and held his arms open so Ian could throw himself into his arms. He felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He sniffled loudly. “When are we going home?”

His dad stroked his back. “This is our home now,” he said.

“But what about Mrs. K?” Ian pulled away. “We didn’t say goodbye.”

“I know.” His dad’s smile was sad. “Maybe we can visit her soon.”

Ian threw his arms around his dad again. “I don’t like it here. It’s too big.”

“Yeah, it is. To be honest,” and his dad lowered his voice like he was letting Ian in on a big secret, “I think it’s meant to get lost in.”

Ian turned his head, which made his hair brush against his dad’s chin. His dad squirmed and laughed. “So is that what it felt like with my beard?”

Ian laughed, too, and did the action again. “Yes!” he squealed, and then his dad was tickling him.

It was hard to escape, dressed up in his suit, but his dad stopped, picked him up, and swung him up in the air. He pulled Ian into a hug again, holding him close. “I’m not ever letting you go, Ian,” he whispered. “You remember that.”

Ian nodded. He knew that. He knew his dad would always be there for him, no matter what. He was the best dad, and Ian loved him more than anything else in the whole world.

\--

They had to leave the room eventually. His dad led Ian through the turning hallways, down a different path (at least, so Ian thought) than he’d gone down before. His dad didn’t seem to have any trouble knowing where they should go, and at last, they reached the top of a set of curling steps that led into a grand ballroom.

Ian stared. There were so many people there. They were all dressed up, too, in suits and tuxedos and fancy dresses. The chatter created a buzz that accompanied the music playing, something classical sounding from a live band on one side.

He felt his dad squeeze his hand a little tighter. “Here we go,” he murmured, but it was more to himself than Ian.

They came down the stairs unnoticed, and for the most part, as they moved through the crowd, no one paid them any attention. But then there was a loud, “Steve!” that came from the left, and a woman quickly followed. She was overflowing with energy, very pretty and bright, hair cropped close to her ears, and a smile that stretched across her face. “I can’t believe it!” She immediately threw her arms around him. She was much shorter than Ian’s dad, but he brought his arm up to hold her close.

“Jan!” he said, and Ian hadn’t heard such joy in his voice for awhile. “How are you?” They broke apart. “You look fantastic, how have you been?”

“Just the same old,” she said with a laugh. “Got hitched, business flourishing, everyone wants a Van Dyne design! Oh my god, you’re Tony’s guest! Who needed clothes! Why didn’t anyone say?”

“You and Hank?”

“Of course!” She playfully hit his shoulder. It was then that she noticed Ian, clutching tightly to his dad’s hand. Her attention on him only amplified her energy, like a spotlight that was focused on him. “I…” She glanced at Steve. “And who’s this young man?”

Ian’s dad smiled down at him, gripping his hand a little tighter. “My son, Ian. Ian, this is Jan. She’s an old friend.”

Jan’s face went from curious and confused to delighted. “A son? Well, it’s certainly a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hi,” Ian said. He held a little tighter onto his Dad.

“You know, Ian,” Jan said, leaning in conspiratorily, “you have a really great dad here.”

That made Ian smile. He felt his cheeks heat a little. “I know.”

Jan smiled at him before turning her attention back to his dad. “Looks like you've been busy, too.” She bumped his shoulder. “You should have left me your new number. I mean, I know with... how things were going...” His dad's smile slipped. “You could have asked a friendly face for support.”

“Things... got complicated.” His hand came up to run over his hair, and he seemed surprised when he found his hair cut short. “And then there was Ian, and things were good again.”

“Well, I'm glad you came back. Carol and Rhodey will be psyched to see you.” She glanced around the room. “You here with anyone else? Besides this little gentleman here.” She winked at Ian.

“You could say that.”

Jan looked like she was about to say more, but there was a commotion across the room. “They're here!” She hooked her arm in Steve's free one. “Well, until your other plus one shows, let's say hi.”

She pulled them through the crowd, and Ian was terrified that the masses of people around him were going to pull him away from his dad. But his dad kept his grip, and they moved through between everyone else pushing their way across.

They were almost to the stage where the band was set up when someone started speaking. Ian couldn't see who it was, but he recognized the voice. It was more confident and steady than the night before, when he had clung to his dad and kissed him.

“If someone had told me this time last year that Rhodey, our very own Colonel James Rhodes, would be engaged, I'd have thought I had fallen off the wagon.”

There was a spattering of laughter around the room. Ian's dad, however, stiffened slightly beside him.

“Of course,” Tony's voice continued, coming from all around, “here we are today. And to none other than Captain Carol Danvers.”

The applause grew, and someone shouted, “It's Major now, Tony!”

“Well, then, congratulations on the promotion, then.”

The same voice called out, “Oh, shut up. You knew that.”

This prompted more laughter.

“Seeing as she's already ruined her introduction, let's greet the bride- and groom-to-be, Major Carol Danvers and Colonel James Rhodes! May we all be so lucky as you!”

This time, the crowd exploded in noise, and Ian pressed himself tightly against his dad's leg. There was whooping and shouting, and eventually it died down. There were some pleasantries exchanged, some jokes told, this time by a couple new voices, and they thanked everyone for being there. His father relaxed some as they spoke, this Carol and Rhodey, and Ian gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

His dad noticed and smiled down at him.

“Come on,” Jan said, tugging them forward. “Before they get swallowed up by all their commanding officers and men and whatnot.”

Unfortunately, that already had happened, and they were forced to hang back as other people greeted the couple first. At one point, Jan, who had been talking about her clothing lines, saw someone and ran off with a quick peck to Steve's check (she had to raise herself up on her toes,) and pat Ian's head affectionately.

“Are we going to be here for much longer?” Ian said, now that they were alone.

“If you want, you can go up to your room,” his dad said. “I have to stick around for awhile, though.”

“I don't want to leave without you.”

That made his dad smile.

It wasn't long after that that other people started approaching Ian's dad. They all knew him, and he knew them.

“Steve!” one man said, who was broader than anyone Ian had seen, “it's great to see you, man!”

“Luke!” Ian’s dad embraced first the man and then the woman with him. “Thought you and Jessica had run off to Hollywood!”

“Back here, doing some stage work now. Really great to see you, Steve.”

It was strange to hear everyone call his dad by his name. Mrs. K had always said, “Your father.” Uncle Sam and Uncle Bucky said it sometimes. Ian knew his dad's name was Steve, but it was weird to hear it repeated so often.

Ian hung back as he watched everyone try to talk to Steve. They had retreated to one of the few tables that lined the room, so Ian could sit down while Steve talked with his friends. He got a few casual glances, some asked about him, others didn't, and a few said hi.

Eventually, long after the band had started playing upbeat pop and rock songs, and Ian was having a hard time keeping his eyes open, Tony approached, followed by two new people.

His dad brightened at seeing them. “Rhodey, Carol!” He shook their hands and pulled them each in for a half hug. “Congratulations to you both, and, unlike Tony, I'm not surprised by it one bit.”

Their conversation was both interesting and yet not. It was a side of his dad that Ian had never seen, but he didn't understand anything they talked about. They talked about planes, flying, leadership, partnership, and Ian felt his eyes drooping. He noted that Tony only ever cut in now and then. Ian hadn't expected him to be so quiet, but maybe he had misjudged Tony.

It was only when he heard Tony say, “-shouldn't be here,” that Ian realized he had fallen asleep. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. He saw his father's back, almost unfamiliar in the fine suit and short hair. He was speaking with Tony, and in an instant, Ian knew he was not happy.

“I'm not abandoning him on his first night here,” his dad said.

“I'll get Jarvis to take him to bed, he won't even notice!”

“When he wakes up, I'll take him myself, but I'm not going to let him wake up somewhere strange without me.”

“Look, he'll be fine for a few minutes, I need to introduce you to General Ross-”

“I've met General Ross before, and he wasn't very impressed with me. Dishonorable discharge after all.”

“That's in the past, he won't remember! Five minutes, we'll be back-”

“No, Tony, I don't want-”

“Dad?”

Ian didn't like interrupting his dad. But his back was overextended backward, like he was making himself bigger than he was. It only happened when he felt really threatened. When he was frustrated with Ian, or only a little worried, he would fold his arms and frown, a crease between his eyebrows, but he never bent back like he was now.

Tony's eyes snapped to him, and his dad turned. “Hey, sorry, did I wake you?” He came over and stroked Ian's hair. Ian didn't like that it was spiky, because it made the movement rough and stuttered instead of smooth.

“What’s going on?”

“Shh, nothing. You tired? You want to go to bed?”

Ian shook his head, but as he did so, a yawn overtook him. That made his dad chuckle. “Come on, kiddo, it’s long past your bedtime. I’ll take you, I promise.”

Ian wrapped his arms around his dad as he scooped him up into his arms. He rested his head on his dad’s shoulder and let his eyes drift shut.

As they passed Tony, Tony said, “Steve, you’re coming back?”

“Tony. Please.” The please rumbled through his dad, a comforting rumble that had Ian snuggling closer to him.

If Tony said anything, Ian didn’t hear him. All of a sudden, he was in the room with all the toys, and his dad was tugging off his suit and putting him into his pajamas. He tucked him into the bed, and it felt huge. The mattress was very firm and didn’t sink like the one at home did.

“Story?” Ian said. He thought his dad didn’t hear him at first, but at last his dad plucked a book from the bedstand. His dad crawled into bed with him, still wearing his tuxedo, and opened to the first page.

Ian snuggled closer to his dad, and he fell asleep before the book was finished.

\--

The bed sinking slightly underneath a new weight woke Ian. The room was pitch black, and it took him a moment to register that this wasn’t his bed. Immediately, he was in a panic. “Dad?” he cried out, reaching for him.

“Shh, I’m here.”

The tension instantly dissipated from Ian’s body. His dad’s arms wrapped around him. “I’m right here, Ian. Go back to sleep.”

Ian obediently closed his eyes. There was something wrong though; it wasn’t just the bed or the room. His dad smelled weird. He smelled too perfumey, and it was almost overpowering. He didn’t smell like the simple soap like he usually did.

That left Ian laying awake for a long time, even as his dad fell asleep next to him.

All he wanted to do was go back to sleep and wake up back home. But that wasn’t going to happen, so he fought sleep as long as he could to avoid the disappointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see the [accompanying art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2484713) by knowmefirst! An adorable shot of Ian looking out through the window!


	2. Chapter 2

Steve woke up with a numb arm and Ian’s arm in his face. It had been a long time since Ian had turned this much in his sleep. He extracted himself as carefully as he could. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was after nine already. Steve ran a hand over his face to chase the remaining sleep from his eyes. The stubble caught him off guard. When was the last time he’d had just stubble? Probably not since shortly after he’d gotten Ian.

He rubbed his arm gently as it began to prickle. There was a soft beep from his cell phone, and Steve reached over to check it. It was new; Tony had given it to him yesterday, along with both his old wardrobe and enough new clothes to constitute a second. All of his things were in his own room a few hallways down. Of course, Tony could have asked where he would have liked a room, but Tony was all extravagance. He had to impress you, leave you overwhelmed and surprised.

It probably wasn’t entirely his fault. Since he had grown up with everything he’d ever wanted, over-the-top was the only luxury. But man did it get to Steve sometimes.

There was a series of text messages. Steve turned over the phone several times. It wouldn’t be fair to bet that it wouldn’t be on the market for another year.

The texts were mostly from Tony.

_Surprised you’re still asleep, Mr. Up WIth the Sun. Left your cards in your room, same as before._

_Lunch at 1, Happy can pick you up._

_Love you. Glad you’re back. Ah, that’s dopey, isn’t it. Losing my charm in my old age. Don’t tell the ladies._

The last one was an unknown number.

_It’s Jan. Got your number off Tony this morning. Let’s grab lunch sometime, ok? I didn’t realize you were back with him. We should talk. Just let me know! Hugs_

Only a day there, and Steve was already starting to feel like he’d never left. But things were different this time. He glanced to Ian; he looked so tiny in that huge bed. It made Steve feel like he had just gotten Ian, and he was once again in over his head with no clue what he was doing.

He ran his knuckles lightly over Ian’s cheek. “Sorry,” he murmured.

“Dad?” Ian blinked slowly up at him. “Are you going?”

“No,” Steve said. He kissed Ian’s forehead. “It’s me and you today, I promise.”

It was almost surprising how little had changed in the past five years in Stark Manor. Steve got Ian fed in the kitchen, everything exactly where he remembered, and once they were dressed, he took him out into the gardens.

“This flower’s ugly,” Ian said. He bent over some exotic flora that was only blooming this time of year because of Jarvis’s careful intentions.

“It is, but doesn’t it look kind of a like a cat?” Steve pointed out the long strands coming from the dark petals. “Then it’s not so ugly.”

They spent the day outside. Steve found a baseball among Ian’s new things, and he taught Ian how to pitch and catch. There hadn’t been the space before, and they might as well take advantage of it all.

It felt good to just throw the ball back and forth. It felt like a real father-son activity, one Steve had shared with his own father years ago. “Good catch!” he said, clapping his hands. “Now remember, follow through after you release the ball.”

The baseball went off course, and Ian shouted out in frustration.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it!”

It landed near the corner of the building and rolled. Steve jogged over there, but Happy stepped around the corner as he approached.

“There you are,” Happy said with relief. “It’s already after 12:30, we should get going.”

Steve picked up the ball and tossed it in the air in one smooth motion. “You’ll have to make my excuses to Tony, I’m spending the day with my son.” He caught the ball in his mitt.

Happy looked lost. “But the boss said-”

“I'm sure he said I knew about it, but he never asked me.” Steve frowned. “And when you pick him up – without me – you can tell him that next time, he asks first.”

Happy’s frown deepened.

Steve had had it last time being at Tony's beck and call. Now he had his son to think about. Ian came first. Tony knew that. And if he couldn't deal with it, then maybe this wasn't going to work out after all.

Happy sighed and held up his hands. “Ok, fine. But you could tell him yourself next time.”

Steve's smile was grim. “Sorry, Hap.”

Happy waved his hand. “Oh, you know how it is.” He paused as he turned. “But it is nice to have you here again.”

Behind him, Ian called out, “Dad?”

“Cute kid,” Happy said, and with that, he left.

Steve felt a little regret at the slump in his shoulders; he should have called Tony, but he didn't want to have an argument that morning. Of course, this was just going to perpetuate the issue, and Steve was reminded of one of the many reasons why everything had fallen apart.

“Why does everyone call him happy?” Ian said when Steve got back. “He's not a very happy man.”

It took a moment for Steve to process this. When he caught on, he chuckled. “It's just a nickname.”

“But he's not happy,” Ian said.

“I think that’s the point. He used to be a boxer, actually. The good old days of Happy Hogan.”

“Can he teach me?”

Steve ruffled Ian’s hair. “You know, if you asked, I'm sure that might make him crack a smile. As much as he does, anyway.”

–

It was early evening when Tony came home. He walked through the door, and Steve didn't immediately look up from where he sat drawing with Ian.

“Draw a monkey next,” Ian said, pointing by the giraffe and cat that Steve had already doodled in crayon.

“Arts and crafts hour, is it?” Tony said. He came and sat on the couch with a sigh.

They were in one of the lounges, one with newer furniture that Steve wouldn't feel so guilty getting crayon dust on in case of an accident.

“I kept your studio for you.”

“Haven't gone to see yet,” Steve replied. He finished drawing the monkey, and gave it a tree to hang onto with one hand. “How about you color those in?”

Ian chose to color the monkey purple, pressing down hard into the paper.

Tony shrugged. “You should. Had all the paints replaced, thought some of it was getting a bit old, a bit dusty.”

Steve didn’t bother to look up from the paper. “That’s quite a lot of paint.”

“New brushes and canvases, too. Could show you now if you’re interested.”

Steve caught Ian’s glance between him and Tony. He rubbed Ian’s head and let his hand slip down to Ian’s back. “We’re good at the moment.”

“Sure.” Tony shrugged again. “Fine. Ok.” He stood, straightening his jacket. “If I could talk to you when you’ve got a moment…” His eyes glanced down at Ian.

Steve held back his sigh. “Sure. I’ll be right back,” he told Ian. Ian nodded and continued to color.

He followed Tony out into the hall. “What did you want?”

“This, for one.” Tony laid a hand on Steve’s shoulder and pushed him gently back to the wall. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Steve’s.

It was good, too good. Steve let himself get lost in the kiss, in the feel of Tony in his arms, pressing against him, of Tony’s goatee, unchanged after all these years, scratching against his skin.

Tony’s thigh pressed up into Steve’s groin. He couldn’t help the moan at the touch, but he gently pushed Tony away. “Not here,” he said, glancing back toward the door.

For a moment, Tony couldn’t focus. He just stared at Steve, not understanding. And then recognition crept into his eyes. He didn’t step back though. His hand stroked gently down Steve’s arm.

“I was disappointed you didn’t come to lunch.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “We’ve been over this, Tony. You need to ask first.”

“Sorry, sorry, I just got a little excited.” He leaned forward and gave Steve another slow kiss. “Forgive me?”

Steve held back his sigh. “Try harder next time.”

“You’re right. I will. On that note… I have a business dinner tomorrow. Will you join me?”

Business dinners were definitely something Steve hadn’t missed, but this relationship was going to be give and take. “Tomorrow night, then.”

That pleased Tony. “I’ll have something quiet for us today, then. Just the two- three of us.”

Dinner consisted of Tony mostly talking business, but when Ian mentioned playing in the backyard, he listened intently as Ian recounted his day. He was still shy around Tony, but he became more eager as he talked about playing catch with Steve.

After the food was gone, Ian yawned. Steve collected him to take him to bed. He bent down to kiss Tony softly on the lips. “Thank you,” he said.

“I told you, Steve, I’ve changed.” Tony stroked Steve’s cheek before glancing briefly at Ian, half asleep on Steve’s shoulder. “Thank you for the second chance.”

Ian was barely awake as Steve changed him into pajamas, but he came to enough to stand on the little step stool in his bathroom to brush his teeth.

“That’s a good boy,” Steve said with a kiss to Ian’s head.

“Dad?” Ian said, clinging to Steve’s shirt. “You’re coming back right? You’re not going to leave?”

“I just need to change my clothes and brush my own teeth, then I’ll be back.”

Ian looked relieved, and he clung to Steve for a moment longer. Steve took the time to scoop up Ian and tuck him into bed. “Now why don’t you pick out a bedtime story, and we’ll read it when I come back.”

Ian nodded and then started going through the books on his bedside table.

Steve’s room was too far; he’d have to talk to Tony about moving it. Of course, knowing Tony, actually getting that done…

Tony must have left his room the way it had originally been. Back then, Steve hadn’t used it much. He’d mostly slept in Tony’s room, which was connected by a set of double doors. Usually, they just left those open, so Steve had easy access to the bulk of his wardrobe. A lot of his clothes got mixed in with Tony’s, though, in his closets and dressers.

Steve pulled open a draw and pulled out pajama pants. They were new; a lot of his clothes were. Tony (or whoever Tony hired) had kept some of it, but there were drastic changes. Style, Steve supposed it boiled down to. All the suits were new, with up-to-date cuts, and the lot probably cost more than what Steve had made in the last year.

But that’s how Tony had always shown his affection. He’d bought Steve things. He would continue to buy Steve things, no matter what he said. It was one particularity of Tony that Steve found at times aggravating, but he could put up with it.

It was a waste, but not a battle Steve wanted to fight.

As he unbuttoned his shirt, a pair of hands came around from underneath, wrapping around. Tony pulled Steve back into his chest, resting his head on his shoulder. “You don’t know how good it is to have you back.” Tony buried his face in Steve’s shoulder and took a deep breath.

Steve leaned back into the touch. His heart fluttered, like he was freshly in love again, but there was also a heavy weight that was an ache he had yet to name. He didn’t know how to respond, so he said, “Thank you.”

Tony stiffened, just slightly, and then he kissed Steve’s neck. “Come back with me?” he asked, his hands fluttering at the waist of Steve’s pants.

Part of Steve wanted to, but Ian was waiting. “Not tonight,” he said. He pushed Tony’s hands away and broke free. “Reading Ian a story for bed.”

“Then after?”

“Then I’m going to sleep.”

Tony frowned, but he didn’t persist. He glanced around, fidgety. “Well, I guess… this is good night.”

“I’ll be up early, find me for breakfast,” Steve said. He bent forward to gently kiss Tony. “Good night, Tony.”

“Is that a promise?” Tony said, giving it the most lascivious tone he could.

Steve didn’t bother with a response, he just raised a hand and left, pajama pants in hand.

Steve thought Ian fell asleep long before the book was over. But as he set the book on the bedside table, Ian mumbled, “When are we going home?”

Steve felt a heavy lump in his chest. “This is our home, Ian. From now on.”

“Oh…”

“You’ll get used to it. We’ll find you some playmates, wouldn’t that be fun? And soon you’ll be going to school, and you can make all kinds of friends.”

“I just want you.”

“You’ve already got me, kiddo. You’ll like having friends, promise.”

Ian nodded, silent. Steve picked out another book. “Let’s get some sleep now, okay? Alright, let’s see here… Once upon a time…”

Steve watched Ian sleep. It was obvious that he wasn’t comfortable in the mansion and even more uncomfortable around Tony, but that was to be expected. It was something different than he’d experienced. All he needed was time. At least, Steve hoped that’s all he needed.

Was he being selfish? Maybe a little. But this was for Ian’s sake, too. Tony had money and resources Steve couldn’t provide. This way, Ian would be able to get the best education and not want for anything in his life. It was a childhood different than Steve had, with his parents scraping by as best they could.

But maybe he was rationalising it all, because of his feelings for Tony.

It was all too new. He just needed time, like Ian.

\--

For the next few days, Tony left Steve and Ian on their own, letting Steve and Ian explore the mansion. Little had changed, and it took no time for Steve to start wandering around the mansion as he used to years before. He wouldn’t have bothered with looking around much at all, except the look of wonder and delight on Ian’s face made it worth it.

When Steve stepped into his art studio, it was like stepping back into the past. His half-finished paintings were carefully stacked to one side, while the complete ones were stacked against another wall. The windows stretched floor to ceiling all along one wall. Steve opened the french doors that led to the gardens in the back yard, letting in fresh air.

In the cabinets on the left side of the room, Steve found stacked canvases, fresh paints and brushes, charcoals, pencils, and anything else he could ever want. He picked up a new rubber eraser and handed it to Ian. “Here, this is neat. If you keep kneading it, it’ll get soft.”

Ian took it carefully, feeling the tough texture before beginning to crush it in his hand as best he could.

Steve left him to it as he set up an easel. He didn’t intend to paint, not today, and he wasn’t sure if he would pick it up again anytime soon. Taking care of Ian was a full time job, after all.

Sketching was different; sketching was easy, something he could do with just a pad and pencil while Ian ate dinner or played on his own. There was something about painting that made Steve feel like he truly was back here to stay, like he was Tony’s partner again.

Steve left the easel empty.

Ian came up to Steve to show just how soft the eraser had become. “Very nice,” Steve said with a grin. “Hey, maybe we can get some play-doh for you.”

“What’s play-doh?” Ian tripped over the word, which made Steve smile.

“It’s soft like that eraser, and you can build all sorts of things with it. How does that sound?”

“Yeah!”

Steve had planned to take Ian out to let him pick his own out, but there was no car seat. “Allow me,” Jarvis said to Steve. When he returned, he brought an assortment of not only play-doh and play-doh sets, but a new car seat and several candies as well.

Ian ate the candies up quickly, though he offered quite a few to both Jarvis and Steve. Steve petted Ian’s hair affectionately as he said to Jarvis, “You’re going to spoil him rotten.”

“I believe that is part of my job, sir.” His face was warm as he watched Ian eat the last caramel. “It’s good to have a child in the house again.”

Steve was suddenly struck by how old Jarvis was looking these days. He must have been in his sixties by now, which certainly wasn’t elderly, but Jarvis had been working for the Stark family his entire life.

“Any plans for retirement?” Steve asked.

Jarvis looked shocked by the very thought. “Oh, no, not yet. I don’t think anyone else could keep this place running as smoothly as I can, and until I do, I can’t give it up.”

Although he didn’t say it, Steve understood there was another element to Jarvis’s continued service. He had essentially raised Tony, and he continued to watch over him, even if it was just in his employ.

Ian loved the play-doh. They spent the rest of the afternoon building, rolling, and smashing it into different shapes. The toy sets Jarvis bought allowed them to push it through different tools, making clumps of hair, providing decorative frosting on cupcakes. or punching out little star shapes.

Steve didn’t realize how late it was until Tony knocked on the open door to Ian’s room.

“Hey,” Steve said, grinning up at him. “Ice cream?” He held out a little cone of play-doh mint chocolate chip.

Tony’s eyes swept over the mess that covered the table. He visibly winced when he saw the floor. “You do know that’s antique carpeting?” he said, teeth gritted. Steve glanced down and picked at a piece of play-doh that Ian had accidentally smashed into the carpet.

“You made a room with antique carpeting a kid’s room?” Steve shook his head. “You should have known better.”

Tony looked, to put it mildly, like he was constipated. Steve couldn’t help feeling a bit smug. Teasing Tony was too easy. Tony really should have thought about the carpet though. Steve didn’t feel any remorse. It was a kid’s room. Kids were messy.

“Well, I can hire a cleaner,” Tony said at last. “And… I’ll get something else put in.”

Ian tugged on Steve’s sleeve. “Daddy,” he said in a quiet voice, “am I in trouble?”

“No, not at all!” Steve pulled him into his arms. “Tony, tell Ian it’s okay.”

Tony sighed, still clearly pained. “It’s okay, kiddo. It’s Steve whom I blame.”

Ian snuggled a little closer to Steve.

Tony asked if Steve could stay with him for awhile that night. Steve agreed, but only after Ian had fallen asleep. That night, once Ian’s breathing evened, Steve left him in bed curled around his toy bird.

Tony was sitting in a chair in the corner of his bedroom. He was dressed only in a red robe, and when Steve entered, he grinned and stood, putting aside his book. “I thought you might not make it.”

“I said I would come.”

Tony approached slowly, as if Steve would spook if he came too fast. Tony entangled his hands into Steve’s short hair, bringing him in for a kiss. Steve sighed into it. Though Tony might not believe him, he ached for Tony. He wanted to hold him close, feel Tony’s fingers dance over his body and open him up.

It was why he was here tonight.

The first night, after Rhodey and Carol’s engagement party, it had been rough and desperate, both eager to make up for the years apart. Now, Tony took his time, exploring Steve, finding what had changed and what had stayed the same.

“I missed this,” Tony breathed against Steve’s neck as he pushed into him.

Steve bit back a groan. He arched his back up against Tony’s chest. The smell underneath the scent of sex and sweat was different, unfamiliar. Tony had changed his cologne, and there wasn’t the ever present stench of smoke and booze. But the way Tony slid into him, the way Tony held him, even if his hands were a bit more calloused, was the same, as if no time had passed at all.

It was like a dream, and Steve didn’t know if he wanted it to be or not. He felt his pleasure build, Tony’s hand wrapped around him, and he came with a moan, Tony’s name on his lips.

“Love it when you do that,” Tony whispered into his ear. “Say my name at orgasm. Oh, god, Steve…” Tony followed, pleasure cresting, and he collapsed against Steve’s body.

For a long time, they laid in bed, Tony tracing Steve’s features with one hand. With his other, he brought up one of Steve’s and kissed his fingertips one by one.

“Rougher,” Tony murmured against the skin of Steve’s palm.

“So are yours.”

“But yours are different.”

Tony’s breath was hot, and it tickled as he breathed across Steve’s hand. But Steve resisted the impulse to pull away. Instead, he pressed it up against Tony’s cheek. Tony’s eyes fell shut as he leaned into the touch.

“Laborer’s hands,” Tony said at last. “Not the fine callouses from holding a pencil or brush. But the rough scrapes from heavy lifting, from repeated tool use. It’s different.”

“Don’t romanticize one thing over another,” Steve said, voice with a note of warning. He wasn’t going to play this game; he wasn’t going to have Tony shame him over anything he did while they were apart.

“I’m not.” It was a simple statement, clear and honest. “Okay, maybe a little. But not so much the activity as the past itself.” A warm smile crossed Tony’s face. “In a way, it’s a little like having sex with a stranger. Rougher, harder… Exciting, isn’t it?”

Steve didn’t have a response for Tony for a long moment. At last, he said, “I don’t want sex with a stranger, Tony. I want sex with you.”

Tony looked at him with a face full of love and longing. “You have that, Steve.”

Tony wanted them to click like that, like they used to. But Steve had different priorities, and he’d had five long years to himself. He still loved Tony, but he didn’t know to what extent. He wasn’t sure exactly how.

Even if he did love Tony the same, they couldn’t be the same. They had both changed, hopefully grown, and Tony needed to see that.

Steve leaned in to gently kiss Tony on the lips. “Good night,” he said, before slipping out of bed.

“Steve.” Tony caught his hand. He squeezed it lightly. “Can’t you stay?”

“If Ian wakes up and I’m not there…”

Tony cast his eyes down. “Yeah.” He gave the back of Steve’s hand quickly before letting his hand go. “Rest well, Steve.”

“You, too.”

Steve took a quick shower before returning to Ian’s room. Ian was still asleep, curled around Redwing, and Steve leaned forward to kiss his hair.

What really scared Steve was how much he had to resist falling into old patterns.

He worried that Tony would eventually fall into his own old patterns, too.

\--

Steve agreed to attend a casual business lunch with Tony. He had been to many before, and they ranged from dull to engaging, largely dependent on what business was being discussed and with whom.

This one was with a businessman named Justin Hammer, head of HammerTech, and not someone Steve had met before. “He’s a bore,” Tony said. “Has these grandiose notions about running the global economy, but he’s a snake without the means.”

“Sounds like it’ll be fascinating,” Steve said.

Justin Hammer was an older gentleman, gray hair slicked back at the sides and his toupee almost unnoticeable. He had a thin face, not gaunt by any means, but his skin stretched over his face as he gave a smug smile, pulling at the corners of his mouth and eyes.

“Mr. Stark,” he said, holding out a hand. “Pleasure as always to see you.”

“Hammer.” Tony’s handshake was perfunctory. Steve raised a hand briefly to his face to hide a smile until he could get it under control.

Hammer was accompanied by a woman who looked a good twenty years younger. She was stunning, wearing a forest green dress that clung to her body. Her dark hair, cropped short around her chin, seemed to have a green tint to it as well. It obscured half her face, so she fixed Steve with just one brilliant eye. She remained seated and gave Steve a smile that revealed a set of perfect, white teeth. Steve felt an uncomfortable prickling run down his back.

“My companion, Ophelia,” Hammer said, gesturing to her. “Ophelia, this is Tony Stark.”

“Pleasure,” Tony murmured.

She spared him one sharp glance before focusing again on Steve. “Ophelia Sarkissian,” she said in a heavy Eastern European accent. “And this is…?”

“Ah, Steve Rogers,” Tony said, cutting in before Steve could say anything himself. “My companion.”

At those words, both Hammer and Sarkissian looked at Steve with renewed interest. Hammer’s was only slight; it was clear he didn’t really care what Tony’s private life consisted of. But Sarkissian looked even more taken with Steve.

He didn’t think that was a good thing.

Hammer had ordered a bottle of wine, but as he uncorked it, Tony covered his glass with a hand. “Just a soda for me,” he said.

Hammer rose an eyebrow, but he moved on, serving the rest of them.

Tony dove right into work as soon as their lunch orders were made. He and Hammer began playing their little game, talking back and forth over a potential joint adventure into robotic prostheses.

Steve found the concept compelling, not least because of what Bucky could do with one to replace his missing arm if he wanted. But what Hammer and Tony mostly discussed was potential military application and what kind of money that meant. That was far less interesting.

“So,” Sarkissian said as their food was served, “what sort of work do you do, Steve?”

Steve cut into his open faced hamburger with his knife and fork before responding. “Unemployed, actually.”

“So Stark’s kept man, then.”

“If that’s your definition.”

Sarkissian shrugged a shoulder. “What other definition is there? An attractive man, on the arm of a multi-billionaire… And they call women gold diggers.”

Steve wasn’t rude; he would never openly comment on how her own relationship with Hammer appeared. But he didn’t resist saying, “Do you know a saying in English about kettles and pots, Ms. Sarkissian?”

She gave a little laugh. “Please,” she said, placing a hand on Steve’s, “call me Ophelia. And I do.” She didn’t move her hand.

Hammer and Tony were engrossed in their talks. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last, that Steve could have a more-or-less private conversation with the dates of Tony’s business partners.

“How about you?” Steve said, slipping his hand away. “What’s your line of profession… Ophelia?”

Sarkissian was pleased at his use of her name. “It may surprise you to know I am the current head of both Hydra and the Serpent Society.”

“Can’t say I’ve heard of them.”

“Hydra has several extensive contracts with the US government regarding both national security and military operations abroad. As for the Serpent Society, it’s a bit of an exclusive club.”

Exclusive clubs were familiar to Steve. It had been ages since he had last gone with Tony to one of his open plus one Hellfire Club events. Tony had never been overly fond of the group.

“Impressive,” he said as he lifted his glass of water.

He excused himself to head to the restroom. There were easy business lunches, and then there were these. Steve almost preferred the openly homophobic ones, where more than once, a wife had asked how long he’d been that way, and Steve rarely had the energy to discuss the intricacies of sexuality.

Ophelia Sarkissian didn’t give one shit that Steve was with Tony. She was on the prowl, and it was exhausting.

“Why are you even doing this again?” Steve said, staring at himself in the mirror. There was something to be said for not having to do the dance of business politics and niceties the last five years, especially when, as Sarkissian had pointed out, Steve was arm decoration. He was there to make nice with the other partners as Tony did business.

“Should have stuck with the drawing gig, Rogers.” At least then, his only headaches would come from late nights to meet deadlines.

The door opened, and Steve quickly glanced down to wash his hands. But he heard a click of heels, and he looked up to meet Sarkissian’s eyes in the mirror.

“Come to hide away?” she said, taking slow steps toward him. “I was worried, you were taking so long.”

A hand came up to his shoulder, her green fingernails sparkling under the light. He felt her press her body against his.

“Worried,” Steve said. “Sure you were.”

“I don’t care what people do,” Sarkissian said. “I’m a nihilist at heart, so why shouldn’t one do whatever one wants? Whatever you and Stark have… it doesn’t matter, doesn’t have any impact on us here, now.”

Steve easily turned out of her grasp. He shook the water off his hands and grabbed a paper towel. Sarkissian rested a hip against the counter, a smirk on her lips.

“If you need to use the restroom, don’t let me stop you.” Steve gestured to the open stalls. They were the only ones in there.

Sarkissian didn’t take her eyes off him. “We won’t be missed; our companions are in deep conversation. In fact,” and here she acted like the idea had just occurred to her, “I think they might have a sort of… thing going on. Justin does speak of Stark often. You wouldn’t know anything about it?”

“Can’t say I do.”

“Ah,” Ophelia said, smile growing. “Pity what happened. The fire, you know. I had the pleasure to meet Morgan Stark a few years ago while in Monte Carlo. They never caught who did it, did they?”

Steve didn’t rise to her bait. He said, flatly, “I will see you back at the table.”

\--

Tony sighed as he let his head fall against the headrest in the car. “I hate Hammer,” he said. “Last year, he tried to buy up all the stock to Stark Industries. But if this deal can go through, and a couple other things all work out, you’ll be looking at the head of Stark International.” Tony grinned as he said it, a sparkle in his eye.

Steve shifted in his seat. “Could have done without the sexual harassment on my end.” And the probing questions. He should have expected them, at least from those interested in business.

“I’m sorry, babe.” Tony reached out and held his hand. “Knowing Hammer, you won’t ever see her again.”

Tony’s thumb ran across Steve’s knuckles in soothing circles. “I would say that she’s using him, actually.”

“Of course,” Tony said, but it was a dismissal. Tony was humoring him. “Hammer tends to pick dangerous women, but he’s a dangerous man himself.”

Although Sarkissian was mostly trying to get a rise out of Steve, she had a point about Tony and Hammer having an unhealthy obsession with each other. In all scenarios for Tony, Hammer was the one to watch, no matter if there were any other vipers in the grass.

But Steve wasn’t so sure of that.

Tony trailed a hand along Steve’s shoulder. Steve leaned over until his head was resting on Tony’s shoulder, Tony’s arm around him.

Tony pressed a kiss into Steve’s hair and said, “I’m glad you’re with me, Steve. I missed this.”

“Getting sentimental in your old age?”

“Middle age,” Tony corrected. “We’re hitting middle age, and I’d thank you not to remind me. I’m putting off the crisis as long as I can.”

“Oh, and here I thought you were in one.”

Tony laughed, and Steve let his eyes close. It felt like the old days. Although there was just the smell of leather, he imagined the smell of his cigarettes, of Tony’s whiskey, of hot lazy kisses.

Steve opened his eyes. He couldn’t get caught up in all that again.

Tony didn’t seem to notice his mood shift. He nuzzled Steve’s head and whispered, “Come up to my office with me?”

“No, Tony.” Steve straightened up. “I’ve got some things to do, then I need to go home.”

“There once was a time that you wouldn’t say no to a quickie after lunch.”

“Different priorities.”

“Ah. Well. If you won’t come up, then can I have a kiss?”

Steve granted him that request. As Tony reached for the door, he said, “I have an extra car in the lot, if you want to borrow it.”

It was fortunate that Steve turned down the offer of traded handjobs in Tony’s office. When they arrived, Clytemnestra Erwin was waiting for Tony, insistent he attend to something in R&D. She greeted Steve with a polite nod (they hadn’t known each other well even years ago) and ushered Tony away.

Pepper appeared to lead Steve to Tony’s spare car.

\--

Steve found Bucky sitting on a low ledge with a couple other guys. They were eating lunch and giving each other shit. Steve whistled and waved to catch Bucky’s attention.

“Steve!” Bucky was up in a flash and jogging over to him. “Where the hell have you been? Mrs. K hasn’t seen you for days, Sam couldn’t find you, I even talked to Jack, and he hadn’t heard anything.” He pulled Steve into a quick one-armed hug. He wasn’t wearing his prosthetic today.

“Sorry, Buck, I meant to get in contact earlier, it’s just I’ve been adjusting a little.” They began walking along the edge of the renovation site. Bucky was apprenticing under the archetect, and that left him to see to the day to day work.

Bucky frowned. “Adjusting?”

“At Tony’s place.”

Bucky’s face darkened. “No way. Steve. Come on, I thought you were done with him. You’re back together? How? Why?”

Steve returned Bucky’s frown. “I really don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“If not for your sake, then Ian’s. The media blitz around that asshole, you know you’re not going to be left alone.”

“We’ve talked about that, Buck, Ian will be kept out of the tabloids.” It had been one of Steve’s primary conditions. Tony had to accept Ian, and Ian had to be kept out of the media spotlight. Tony had agreed to both.

“Bullshit, he can’t stop every grubby tabloid monger. Not when there’s such a big story as Stark’s gay lover returning with a son. That’s a headline no one would give up.”

Steve shook his head. “You blow things out of proportion.”

Bucky stopped and put his hand on Steve’s shoulder. His grip tightened. “I was the one who helped you get things together when you left him the first time. That’s not hard to forget.” It wasn’t just Bucky who had been there for Steve. Sam had been, too, and they both helped him get back on his feet.

Unfortunately, less than a year later, with Ian to take care of, Steve gave up the comic artist gig Bucky had helped him get. It hadn’t seemed practical at the time.

“And I thank you for that, but I know what I’m doing.”

Bucky snorted. “You’re an idiot, Steve.”

“Says the kettle.”

“Haha, real funny.” Bucky turned away. “Asshole, not saying you were okay. What the hell was I supposed to think?”

“Sorry, Buck.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Bucky pulled Steve into another hug. “Don’t make us worry like that.”

“I’m sorry, Buck.” Steve held on to him.

They were ex-army, had served in the same platoon. Somehow, Bucky had lied his way in a year too young, and Steve had taken him under his wing. The war had taken Bucky’s left arm, and he was more somber at times, but he was still willing to call Steve on his shit.

Steve should have called. He felt embarrassed and angry at himself that he didn’t. But there just seemed to be so much going on, what with getting Ian settled and being back with Tony and it being all the same and all different at once.

“So, hey,” Bucky said, pulling away, “this means you’re covering for pizza night, right?”

Steve grinned. “Of course.”

He was thankful Bucky didn’t say more. Whatever state Bucky had seen him in before, Steve had lived it. He didn’t need the reminder.

He stopped by Sam’s office, but he was out. He left a note and his new number before heading home.

\--

Ian was napping when Steve got home. Jarvis smiled warmly as he looked at Ian sleep. “It’s nice to have a child in this house again,” he said once again. He placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, too.”

Steve gripped Jarvis’s hand firmly. He liked Jarvis a lot. He didn’t realize how much he had missed him until he was back. “It’s different,” Steve said, “but I think it will be good. Hope so, at least.”

“And I as well.”

Steve swept away a strand of hair from Ian’s forehead. “We’ll be alright, you and me,” he whispered to Ian. “I’ll watch out for you, no matter what.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out the [accompanying art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2484713) by knowmefirst! The second picture relates to this chapter. It's adorable!


	3. Chapter 3

His father was on the phone with someone, a woman. He had called her an old friend.

“Wanda,” his father was saying, “your kids, they’ll be about five? Six?”

Ian had found a bear in the pile of toys in his room. He had named it after Uncle Bucky, because he missed Uncle Bucky, and Bucky Bear joined Redwing by his side.

“We’ll come over later this afternoon. How about that? Good. Good. We can talk more when I get there. Yeah. Missed you, too.”

Ian had Bucky Bear and Redwing dancing in the air. He spun around, and they swooped down.

His father came over and picked him. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, as he swung Ian through the air, “we’re going to have a playdate today!”

‘“What’s a playdate?” Ian asked.

Steve settled Ian on his hip. “A playdate,” he said, “is where you get to meet kids roughly your own age. I know you didn’t play much with the kids in the apartment building, and I’m sorry for that.”

Ian made a face. “You won’t leave me there, will you?”

That made his father laugh. “No, I’ll be there, don’t worry.”

The playdate was at a fancy apartment that his father called a penthouse suite. “My good friend Wanda lives all the way on the top floor with her husband and two boys.”

Ian wasn’t thrilled at the prospect. But his dad seemed happy, happier than he had been the last couple of weeks, so Ian went along with it.

Ian still wanted to know when they would go home, but with his dad insisting the mansion was their new home again and again, Ian stopped asking.

The elevator opened to a little lobby that only had one door. As they stepped out of the elevator, the door opened, and a pretty woman with dark hair and a warm smile stepped out.

“Steve, it’s so good to see you!” she said as she wrapped her arms around him. She held on tightly. “What the hell are you doing back with Tony, though?”

“Inside,” his dad said.

The woman shook her head, but she looked down at Ian. “Ian, right?” She held out her hand. “I have two boys just a bit older than you. They’re in the living room, let’s go say hi?”

The woman, who his dad called Wanda, led them into the apartment. Although full of lots of fancy things and expensive looking decorations, there was something much more homey about it all than the mansion. There were several legos piled next to vase of flowers, and some crayons had been left on a bookshelf.

There were two boys, one with dark hair like his mother, and the other with white-blond hair, sitting at the coffee table. They kneeled right by it, running a set of cars over the wood.

“Tommy? Billy?”

The two boys snapped their heads up at their names. Wanda placed a hand on Ian’s shoulder and ushered him forward. “Boys, this is Ian. Ian, these are my boys Tommy and Billy. Why don’t you two tell him what you’re playing?”

“We’re playing cars!” the dark haired one said. He stood up and trotted over to Ian, taking Ian’s hand in his. He was taller and older than Ian, but he had a warm smile like his mom. “Tommy’s racing them, but I like making them fly.”

“Cars are meant to be fast, duh,” Tommy said with a grimace. “Not fly. That’s stupid.”

“Tommy!” Wanda said sharply. “Language!”

Tommy muttered something and concentrated on his car.

Wanda suggested they take Ian to their room, so they did. Ian glanced back to see his father settle on the couch by Wanda.

“Race ya!” Tommy said, and he sped off in front of them.

“Don’t mind him,” Billy said in a lofty voice, like a parent, but he didn’t quite pull it off. “He’s just at that age, as Mom says.”

“What does that mean?”

Billy looked startled for a second. He coughed and said in a low whisper, “It means Tommy’s dumb sometimes.”

Tommy popped his head out from a room a few doors down. “Hurry up, or I’ll take all the toys for myself!”

Ian was a little lost at first, but both Billy and Tommy, in their own ways, brought him into their games. Billy asked what Ian wanted to do as his character (they were playing swamp monster, and Ian was a villager), and Tommy just started attacking him.

“You gotta run,” Tommy said with a scowl.

“What if you’re not a bad swamp monster?” Ian asked. There had been a good monster in his book that his dad had read him last night. The townspeople had become his friends.

“I’m an evil one,” Tommy insisted. “And I’m going to eat you!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll save you!” Billy said, stepping forward. He howled. “I’m a good werewolf!”

They started battling by throwing their pillows at one another, chasing each other across the floor and over their beds, and Ian soon got swept up in their game.

\--

“He’s cute,” Wanda said, nodding toward the hall. “So, raising a kid by yourself all these years, huh?”

“Yeah.” Steve looked into the mug of coffee Wanda had made for him. It was something expensive, imported in bean form and ground just that morning. After having been on instant for the past few years, the excess of finely brewed coffee was beginning to go to Steve’s head. “I admit it hasn’t been easy. But Ian’s a good kid. He listens, doesn’t cause much trouble.”

“Well, he does have Mr. Perfect for a father,” Wanda said with a laugh. “There has to be some genetic trickle down from that.”

Steve didn’t correct her about Ian’s relation to him. It wasn’t important that Ian wasn’t his by blood. Ian was his son in all the ways that mattered.

“So you and Tony…” Wanda said, curling up on the couch and settling in. “You said you wanted to talk?”

“You said you wanted to talk,” Steve said, raising an eyebrow. “I expect Jan put you up to it.”

Wanda looked only a little guilty. “The day you were back, Jan let us all know.” She reached out a hand and rubbed Steve’s knee. “We’re worried for you, Steve. For both of you.”

Steve appreciated their worry, but it was between him and Tony. It was their life to sort out together, and they were doing that, however slowly. So far, Steve had kept to just a couple business lunches. But with the first of many charity auctions coming up in several weeks, Steve would have to plunge straight back into the life of high society.

He was only just getting his bearings again, and he preferred to meet up with old friends, like Wanda, rather than become the decoration on Tony Stark’s arm.

He sighed, running a hand over his head. “I know,” he said. “But Tony and I… I like to think we’ve matured. And the time apart, we needed that both, to sort out our own lives.”

“Well,” Wanda said, “I’m glad to have you back for selfish reasons.” She leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek. “If Tony ever falls off the wagon or starts ignoring you again, though, you don’t hesitate to call. I am always here for you, Steve. We don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“I wasn’t guiltless, Wanda.” Steve rubbed a hand through his hair. “I pushed when I shouldn’t have.”

She looked at him, worried.

Steve squeezed her hand. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “Now, Wanda, what I need to know is why you and Viz moved back here from Silicon Valley.”

They talked for awhile, catching up. Eventually, there was a short train of children dashing through the room, led by Tommy, with Ian picking up the rear. When he saw Steve, his face lit up, and he jumped in his lap to give him a hug.

“Hey, you having fun?” Steve asked him. Ian nodded.

“Tommy’s a drug dealer, but Billy is a cop, so he has to catch him, and I’m going to make sure that Billy doesn’t give up and become a hobo!”

Steve choked on his appalled laughter. Wanda did not look amused. She stood in one graceful movement, shouting, “Tommy! Billy! What the hel- heck are you learning from your uncle?”

Wanda gave them hurried, but genuine goodbyes while she managed to simultaneously reprimand her children, instructing them to stop listening to their Uncle Pietro. Steve was impressed with the ease she managed to balance both guests and her children.

As the rode the elevator down, Steve asked, “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah,” Ian said, with a large grin that Steve hadn’t seen on him in a while. “Can we come again?”

“I’ll let Wanda know. I’m sure Billy and Tommy would like that, too.”

Ian asked to be picked up, so Steve scooped him up into his arms. Ian grew sleepy as they made the short walk, not more than several blocks, back to the mansion. By the time they got there, he was fast asleep, curled up against Steve’s shoulder. Well, Steve’s little surprise for Ian would have to wait another day.

\--

Ian’s dad had to go to another lunch meeting or, as his dad said, “elbow rubbing bore,” so Ian was left in the hands of Jarvis. Ian spent most of the time following Jarvis around as he worked, taking phone calls, organizing everyone who cooked and cleaned, and made, as he told Ian, everything in Mr. Stark’s personal life run smoothly.

Ian found it pretty boring, but Jarvis took a few minutes often to ask how Bucky Bear and Redwing were getting on (Ian brought them everywhere these days), to give Ian a treat, or to give him a little game to pay, such as having to run down the hall as quick as possible pretending to be a spaceship.

It was a couple hours since his dad had left when a woman that Ian had seen around a few times, but never spoken to before, appeared. She greeted Jarvis with a grin. Like Ms. Potts, she had bright red hair, but she wore hers in a ponytail. She wore black trousers and a white dress shirt, but strapped underneath her arm was a gun. She held a black suit jacket slung over one shoulder. She only glanced at Ian before addressing Jarvis.

“You holding up?” she said, leaning against the back of a fancy armchair. They were in one of the living rooms, which Jarvis called a side parlor.

“Doing well, thank you, Ms. Cabe,” Jarvis replied. He placed a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “I don’t believe you’ve met Mr. Rogers’s young son yet?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure.” She dropped her jacket on the chair, coming around to squat in front of Ian. “Nice to meet you. Ian, right? You can call me Beth.” She held out her hand. Ian stared at it for a long moment before taking it. Everyone was always shaking his hand here.

Jarvis explained to Ian, “Ms. Cabe is head of security, along with her partner, Ms. McPherson.”

“And good at it, too.” To Jarvis, she said, “Hey, Tony asked me to do a basic check, you mind giving us a few minutes?”

Jarvis hesitated. He looked between Ian and Beth for a long moment. Ian grabbed his pant leg, not wanting him to go. Bu Jarvis undid his grip as he said, “It will be alright, just a few questions.” As he left, he said, “Be gentle with him, please, Ms. Cabe.”

“I’m always gentle!” she called after him. Now alone, she gestured to the couch. “Might as well get comfortable.”

Ian sat gingerly on the couch. It looked kind of rickety, and he still remembered the time Tony got upset about the carpet.

Beth settled herself gracefully next to him, one arm over the back. “So, Ian, how you liking it here?”

Ian shrugged. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s really big.”

She laughed at that. “So it is. And your daddy? What do you think of your daddy?”

Ian looked at his knees. He was wearing shorts, and they were a bit scratched up from when he had fallen in the backyard yesterday. But his dad had picked him up, kissed them better, cleaned Ian up, and gotten him ice cream. Then they had curled up on their bed while his dad read to him.

“I love my dad,” he said. “He’s here more.” Ian liked that best. He liked that his dad was around most of the time. But in some ways, he was more distant, too, distracted when he was with Ian, when Jarvis or Happy or Pepper or Tony dropped in, or when someone like Wanda or Jan called. His dad used to take him out to see Uncle Bucky or Uncle Sam sometimes, but his dad had never seemed so distracted then. And of course Uncle Bucky and Uncle Sam loved him a whole lot, almost as much as his dad loved him.

“And he loves you?”

“Yeah, he loves me.” Ian said it with as much conviction as he could. Because his dad did love him, he said so every day. So what if recently he often left after he had tucked Ian in? He was always there again by morning. So what if he was more Steve than his dad these days? So what if he kissed Tony now and then, when he thought Ian wasn’t looking? That didn’t change the fact that he still loved Ian.

Ian hoped it didn’t at least.

“That’s good,” Beth said. She drummed her fingers along the back of the couch. She smiled kindly at him. “And what about your mom?”

Ian stared at her. “I don’t have a mom.”

“No mom? That’s silly, everyone has a mom!”

Ian looked down at his knees again. That was what all the books said, but it wasn’t what he had seen. He didn’t have a mom, and the girl from upstairs apartment had two, but no dad. “I don’t,” he said, voice quiet.

“Well, your dad, did he ever bring anyone back? Was he seeing anyone special?”

Ian didn’t understand. He stared blankly at her.

Beth tried again, “Did you ever see him kissing anyone? Did anyone sleep over at your place?”

“He kisses Tony.”

Beth let out a short, exasperated breath. “Yes, like that, but before. When you were younger. Before you came here.”

Ian shook his head. “He kissed Uncle Sam once, like this.” He pressed his hands against his face and made a loud smacking noise. “But that was because the Dodgers won against the Mets.” Ian didn’t know who the Dodgers or Mets were except they had to do with baseball, and Ian liked baseball well enough. They watched it sometimes at Uncle Sam or Uncle Bucky’s place.

“But no one like he kisses Tony?”

Ian shook his head again.

Beth was losing her smile. It was plastered on, like the smiles of the dolls in Ian’s room.

“Can you tell me more about your Uncle Sam and Uncle Bucky?”

“Uncle Sam gave me Redwing.” He held out the stuffed hawk with a grin. “And Uncle Bucky didn’t get me this, but his arm is a little funny, and Uncle Bucky only has one arm, so this is Bucky Bear.” Ian held up both toys.

Beth wasn’t impressed. She spared the toys barely a glance. “What do they do? For their jobs?”

Before Ian could say anything, he heard his dad’s voice come from the doorway. “That’s enough.”

“Dad!” Ian jumped off the couch, forgetting to be careful, and ran into his dad’s arms. His dad picked him up in one smooth motion, Redwing and Bucky Bear getting squashed between their chests.

“Hey, kiddo,” his dad said with a grin. He gave him a peck on the head. “You do okay while I was gone?”

“Jarvis showed me how to dial 911.”

“And when do you dial 911?”

“Only in emergencies.”

His father grinned at him. “And what do you press?”

That tripped Ian up. He thought for a moment. “Uh…”

“Nine, one, one,” Beth said behind him. “Steve Rogers, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Ian felt his dad tense up. He let Ian slip down to the floor. He rested a protective hand on the back of Ian’s head. “Ms. Cabe.”

“Beth,” she said, “you can call me Beth.” She held out her hand. “See Tony let you know about me. Met Ling yet?”

“I have.”

Ian looked between his dad and Beth. There was a tension there that made him shrink against his father.

“Ian, go find Jarvis.”

Ian looked up at his dad. His dad wasn’t looking at him. He kept his eyes fixed on Beth.

“I’ll get lost.”

“Then please wait outside the door for a moment.”

Ian stood outside the room, back pressed against the wall. His dad closed the door behind him, although it remained opened a crack. He could hear them arguing through it.

“Don’t you ever speak to my son without me there. That is not your job-”

“It is my job! My job is to assess security threats and-”

“He is a four year old boy! That’s not a security threat.”

“I vet everyone who comes to stay long term in the mansion-”

“You do not talk to my son. Ever again. You want to talk to me, fine, ask me all the questions you like, but you do not talk to my son.”

“Tell Stark that.”

His dad opened the door so hard it slammed against the wall as it swung in. Ian had never seen his dad so angry. He looked up at him, clutching Redwing and Bucky bear a little tighter.

“Hey, Ian,” Steve said, crouching down, his expression softening. “I’m sorry, did you hear all that?”

Ian nodded.

His dad held out his arms, and Ian stepped into them. He clung tightly to him, head buried in his shoulder. “I want to go home,” he said.

“Sh, I know… I know.” His dad stroked his hair, comforting him.

Ian looked up through bleary eyes to see Beth give them a glance as she left. Ian couldn’t tell what her expression was.

\--

When Tony got home, Steve asked Jarvis to keep an eye on Ian while he and Tony talked.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Tony said. Steve led him to his own room. He barely used it, except for its bathroom and closet space. The bed was still made from when he had first moved in. He crossed his arms, leaning against one of the bedposts.

“Bethany Cabe was grilling my son,” Steve said without preamble.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t tell her to do that, Steve.”

“Doesn’t matter.” That got to Tony; he straightened, but kept his hands in his pockets, feigning nonchalance. Steve kept going. “You make it clear that if they can’t treat Ian with respect and leave him be, then they don’t approach him. That goes for anyone.”

Tony shrugged. “Okay. You got it, Steve. I’ll make sure Beth keeps her distance from Ian.”

Steve still felt an anger inside him, because Cabe had been fishing. And even if Tony didn’t tell her to talk to Ian, he had to want to know what Steve had been doing all those years. “You want to know anything, you ask me directly, Tony. None of these games with other people.”

Tony’s eyes flashed, but the fire was brief. He looked down and away. “Would you answer if I asked?”

It was a challenge, despite Tony’s submissive body language. If Steve were honest with himself, he didn’t know how honest he could be with Tony. He wouldn’t lie, but he was not about to tell him anything that could put Ian at risk.

Ian was everything. He was Steve’s responsibility and the best thing that had ever happened to him. Steve had to remember that. He couldn’t get caught up in Tony’s glamor, as tempting as it was.

“How long did you look?” Steve asked instead.

“Steve, I wouldn’t dig into anything you didn’t want me to, not without your permission.”

Steve snorted. He couldn’t help it. “You told me you looked for me. How long?” The night Tony had showed up at his apartment door, out of all the things he said, he told Steve he had looked for him. Steve had been careful to stay out of sight, and just like that, Tony had found him.

Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t like making this easy, do you?”

Steve crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow waiting.

At last, Tony said, “About six months. But all I wanted was an address. I didn’t want to know what you were doing or if… you were with anyone, I just wanted an address. And that’s all I got. And I almost tore it up, you know. I almost threw it away, but I-” Tony broke off, looking away. Steve already knew Tony had spent the day crying before he came to find him. Tony took in a shaking breath. “Last year, I asked you to come home. You probably didn’t see it but… I did.”

Steve had seen it. Tony had held a press conference that was the announcement of Stark Industries’s partnership in Japan with Fujikawa Industries. (Tony had told him it was the first step to one day becoming Stark International.) Steve still cared; he kept an eye on what Tony was doing when he was mentioned from time to time in the media. But this was big news. Steve could hardly miss it if he tried.

During the press conference, there was a framed picture hanging behind Tony. It looked innocuous, just a simple tree with a bench underneath it, nothing more than a sketch. But it was the first picture that Steve had given Tony, along with a promise. “If you ever need to find me,” he had told Tony, “I’ll be here.”

It was a spot Steve used to frequent, back when he could catch a break while working two jobs. That was long before he had moved in with Tony, long before they were a couple. He wasn’t sure if the relationship between them was going to work out, and then Tony had a sudden business trip come up that would take him away for several months. So Steve had given him a promise.

The appearance of that picture was obvious to Steve. Tony wanted him to come back. To come home.

Steve ignored it, because he couldn’t, not then.

In the end, Tony had sought him out.

“No one would ever guess how sentimental you really are,” Steve said. He smiled, a small, quiet smile. It was one of Tony’s charms. Great big businessman, brilliant engineer, struck down by sentimentality time and again.

“No one would guess what a stick in the mud you are,” Tony said easily, but he accompanied this with a smile and quirk of his eyebrows. He approached Steve slowly. When he was just inches away from Steve, he said, “I’m sorry about Beth. It won’t happen again, okay?”

Steve could smell Tony’s cologne. He breathed it in, closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he said at last. “Ian is-”

“The most important person to you,” Tony said. He glanced away, looking a bit embarrassed. “I can’t say I fully understand, not being a father myself and…. well, you know. Me and the old man were never on the best of terms.” Tony met Steve’s eyes again. “But I won’t jeopardize that, Steve. I promise you. I’ll make sure both you and Ian are safe and happy.”

“You think you can take on the world, Tony.”

Tony laughed, bright and warm. “And you don’t? Don’t you remember, Steve? Laying on the beach?” Tony trailed his hand down Steve’s arm. Steve wore rolled up sleeves, so Tony’s fingers could glide freely across his skin. “The sun? The water?” Tony’s breath was hot against his skin. Tony eyes focused on Steve’s lips before flicking up to meet Steve’s gaze. “The sand?”

“And that it was impossible to get out later?” Steve said with a wry grin.

“Yeah,” Tony said with a chuckle. “All that. And how we thought nothing could stop us. That it wouldn’t end.” Tony hovered just an inch from Steve.

The moment hung in the air, neither closing the distant, neither retreating.

It felt like falling in love all over again.

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat before saying, “But it did.”

Tony stepped back. “So it did. Life, huh? Funny thing.”

Steve left without another word. He found Ian telling Jarvis exactly how Redwing could carry Bucky Bear through the air to drop in on the circus. Steve smiled watching Ian gesture and babble. Life was a funny thing, but Steve wouldn’t give up Ian for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see the [accompanying art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2484713) by knowmefirst! A lovely painting of Steve and Tony!


	4. Chapter 4

“Ian,” his dad said, “how would you like to see Mrs. K today?”

Ian stared at his dad, not believing his ears. “Really?” he shouted with a squeal. He ran up and threw himself in his dad’s arms. “We’re going home!”

“Not quite, buddy,” Steve said, “but I thought a visit would be nice. And soon we’ll go see Uncle Sam and Uncle Bucky, too.”

Ian bounced in Steve’s arms. He couldn’t wait to see Mrs. K and Uncle Sam and Uncle Bucky. They all needed to see Bucky Bear.

But as his dad bundled him into the car seat, he was suddenly struck with a fear. His hair was cut short, and though it was growing out a little, it still was all spikes. “What if they don’t know it’s me?” he asked. He clutched Bucky Bear and Redwing to his chest. “Daddy?”

His dad kissed the top of his head. “Don’t worry, kiddo,” his dad said. “They will, and they’ll be just as excited to see you.”

Ian watched the city go by from the back seat of the car. They passed where Billy and Tommy lived, and Ian pointed. “Can we go back there soon?”

Steve smiled at him through the mirror. “Yeah, I’ll let Wanda know you had fun. Soon as we can, partner.”

When they pulled up to the old building that was Ian’s home, no matter what his dad told him about the mansion, he could barely wait for his dad to undo his buckle. He pulled at it anxiously until his dad snapped it open, and then he ran up to the door.

“Wait for me!”

Ian stood by the door as his dad took the steps up two at a time. But he didn’t take out his key. Instead, he pressed a buzzer, and a moment later, Mrs. K’s voice came over the intercom.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“It’s Steve, and I’ve got someone very excited to see you.”

There was a cry from the intercom and then, instead of the door buzzer going, there was noise from inside the building. A moment later, The door swung inward, and Mrs. K wasted no time in sweeping up Ian. She pulled his dad in for a hug, too.

She was actually a little taller than his dad, but she was very thin. Ian was surprised by how much space she seemed to take up though, even with how big his father was.

Ian gripped Mrs. K a little tighter. He missed home, and he missed her. There was way more food in the mansion, more than he could imagine, and his bed was softer than their old mattress. He had more clothes, and Jarvis had bought him more books. He had more toys than he knew what to do with, although he loved Bucky Bear and Redwing best. He had things like play-doh and coloring books and tambourines, but it was all still strange. As much as he liked all those things, it wasn’t home.

This was.

Some of the other residents noticed their arrival. Ms. Anna came out with a treat for Ian, and his dad took a moment to chat with a man he called Coop. They made their way to Mrs. K’s apartment, and Ian cast a longing glance at their old home.

Mrs. K asked what he had been doing the past couple weeks, and Ian told her all about how big the mansion was, and how Jarvis let him have ice cream, and how Tommy and Billy played with him, and how he had found Bucky Bear amid all the toys, and how Tony got really mad when Ian and his dad made a mess of the carpet.

Mrs. K looked annoyed at the last part. “Kids are messy,” she said to his dad. “Doesn’t he understand that?”

“He wasn’t angry so much as… pained,” his dad replied with a soft laugh. “It’s alright, he got over it. Made sure he did.”

“Just worried about you. About you both.” Mrs. K ran her hand over Ian’s short hair, all bristles, which made it feel funny. “I missed you both.”

Ian glanced between Steve and Mrs. K. He had never seen them kissing like he had Steve and Tony. But he wouldn’t have minded. He liked Mrs. K. He would have liked her to be his sort of mom. Maybe they had kissed, when he wasn’t watching.

But the atmosphere between his dad and Mrs. K was different. It was like it was between his dad and Uncle Sam or Uncle Bucky. Friendly, warm, but somehow different than what went on between his dad and Tony.

Ian rested his chin on the table, looking up at his dad as he spoke.

His dad seemed more relaxed these days. There were more times when he was visibly frustrated and angry, but all the other times, he was much more at ease. Maybe he thought Ian didn’t notice, but he smiled more. Ate more. Laughed more. And he had more time for Ian which was the best part.

But Ian didn’t like having to share him, either.

He stared at a small tear in the table cloth. Mrs. K probably didn’t notice it, she was a stickler about things not being ripped or stained. The few times Ian and his dad had come over just to hang out at Mrs. K’s, she would scowl if he brought charcoal and would say, “Be careful,” even at pens and pencils.

Ian missed those days.

There was a knock at the door. When Mrs. K opened it, there were three kids, all a bit older than Ian, maybe around Tommy and Billy’s age, that looked at Ian and Steve with open interest.

The first of them Ian recognized. She was the girl with two moms who lived on the top floor. She waved a hand and said rather solemnly, “Hello, Mr. Rogers.”

“America, right?” his dad said with a smile. “You’re getting big.”

She put her hands on her hips, proud of this fact.

The girl who was with her had her blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, and there was a dark smudge on her forehead that no one seemed to notice. The boy was scowling. His hair wasn’t much longer than Ian’s, but it curled tightly against his head. He kept shifting from foot to foot, with quick furtive glances at Ian’s dad.

“What can I do for you three today?” Mrs. K asked.

“We want to borrow your cards and chips,” America said. “Please.” The please was almost an afterthought.

“Of course, just a minute…” As Mrs. K moved to a kitchen door where she kept knickknacks, America stared straight at Ian with an intense, unwavering gaze. He sank a little lower in his chair.

Mrs. K pulled out a deck of cards and a package of brightly colored round flat pieces of plastic. His dad, sounding amused, said, “ _Poker_ chips?”

“They like to count them and also make them jump. LIke tiddlywinks.”

“Ah,” his dad said, like he understood whatever tiddlywinks were.

Mrs. K handed over the cards and chips, and America thanked her. Then she pointed straight at Ian. “He can come play, too.”

Ian looked at his father. He had never played with her before, and he expected his dad to say no.

“We’ll be next door,” the other girl said. She was a lot more soft-spoken than America, but she grew more confident as she went on. “At my place.”

“Is someone there to watch you?” his dad asked.

“Yes,” America said quickly. “Her dad’s there.”

Mrs. K frowned. “I thought he was at work?”

“He got off today,” the other girl said.

Steve looked between him and the others, and at last he gave Ian a smile. “Just keep in sight of her dad, okay?”

The boy muttered something that Ian didn’t catch.

Ian hopped off his chair and followed them out. Next door turned out to be his and his dad’s home. His old home. He felt a little sick to his stomach. It didn’t look the same at all. There was a lot more furniture for one. The girl - Cassie, she said - scampered up a worn couch and patted the seat next to her. The boy, Eli, sat on the other side while America sat on the floor.

There was definitely no one else in the apartment.

America picked what games they played, and although Eli grumbled about how she never let him pick, he generally seemed happy enough to go along with her choices. They played games Ian didn’t understand the rules to and were constantly changing, but that was okay, because he still had fun.

They were playing robbers, but all they had were poker chips. They had to keep their poker chips away from everyone else, but mostly it led to Ian clutching onto whatever he could while running around the furniture, shrieking. Chips flew everywhere and slid underneath the couch and beneath their feet.

The door opened, and Cassie squeaked in surprise and panic.

A man came in, hair as light as Cassie’s, but with dark circles underneath his eyes and a slump in his step. He looked dazed as he took in the mess of the small apartment. His eyes shifted from Cassie, who looked scared, to America to Eli to, finally, Ian, who still clutched a poker chip in his hand.

“Cassie…” the man said slowly, “what is this?”

“We were just playing, dad,” she said quickly. “We’ll pick it up. Don’t be mad.”

Her dad sighed and shook his head. “Not mad, just… tired.”

Eli took the chip from Ian’s hand. “Come on,” he said. He bent down and began to pick up the chips. Ian and America followed suit, and Cassie quickly joined in, too.

Her dad helped out, too, but when he bent over, he moved slowly, as if in pain. He asked them to give him the cards, and he secured the rubber band around them.

“You were supposed to stay with Mrs. Chavez,” he told Cassie as he closed up the box of chips.

“Mom said it was fine,” America said, crossing her arms.

“And if I ask her, is that what she’ll say?”

America looked more uncomfortable at that, and she didn’t reply. Ian looked at his feet. He knew his dad wasn’t going to like this either.

Cassie’s dad sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, no harm done this time. But don’t do it again. Stay with an adult at all times, okay? If your mother found out...” He rubbed his eyes. “Won’t be able to see much of me, honey.”

“Okay,” Cassie said. She looked firmly at her feet.

They all muttered agreement. Cassie’s dad looked at him for a long moment. “And where do you belong, little guy?” He smiled kindly, and he reminded Ian of his dad back before, when he still wore his hair long and had a beard that would tickle Ian’s face. He looked tired in much the same way Cassie’s dad did.

“Here,” Ian said.

“Here?” Cassie’s dad frowned, confused.

“He’s Mr. Rogers’s kid,” America said. She said this like it was obvious. “They used to live here before you moved in. Same apartment.”

“Oh. And your dad - Mr. Rogers, where is he?”

“At Mrs. Kasul’s,” America supplied.

Cassie’s dad held out his hand. “Well, let’s go find him, shall we?”

Ian took his hand tentatively. It was rough, but in a way different than his dad’s. He took one last look at the apartment that had become wholly unfamiliar and felt lost.

Cassie’s dad, who called himself Scott, brought Ian back to his dad. He didn’t mention that he had been gone, so his dad didn’t get mad at Ian. Ian waved goodbye to Cassie, Eli, and America, and then he crawled into his dad’s lap, clinging tightly to him. His dad rested his clean-shaven chin on Ian’s head, and though it felt comforting to have his dad right there, the change that had come over him made him feel lost, as well.

\--

When Ian had gone quiet during their visit to Mrs. K, Steve ended up taking him to Central Park Zoo. Ian cheered up considerably while looking at the animals and was very impressed that it was so close to the mansion.

All in all, Steve thought it was a successful trip. At least he did until he woke up the next morning to the tabloids.

It wasn’t until late morning that he actually found out. He received a call from Jan, and she very delicately asked him if he had seen any of the papers that morning. “Particularly,” she said, “the NOW magazine.”

“Why?”

“You and Ian are both on the cover.”

Tony was, fortunately, working from home that day. Steve didn’t bother knocking before storming in. He clutched in his hand a copy of NOW magazine, which he threw on Tony’s desk.

On the cover were three images. The first and biggest was an old photo of Steve and Tony, from before their big break-up, from some night event, dressed in suits and with Tony’s arm around Steve’s shoulders. Whatever Tony had been whispering intimately into Steve’s ear had made Steve laugh. The second, only a little smaller, was a recent shot of Steve and Tony leaving a business lunch, Tony’s hand resting in the small of Steve’s back. The last image, half-covering the first two and cropped into a circle, was a photo of Ian from the other day.

“You promised me,” Steve hissed between clenched teeth. He didn’t care that Tony was on the phone; he didn’t care that Pepper and Cly were both there. He didn’t care about any of it.

“Jan told me to check this out. Popped out to pick up a copy, had to use the back entrance, since there’s at least a couple paps parked at the front gate.”

“Can I call you back?” Tony said on the phone. “No, I will. Just. Something’s come up.”

He placed his cell down before looking up at Steve. He didn’t even glance at the magazine.

Steve couldn’t believe it. “You knew,” he said. “And you didn’t tell me? You let this happen?”

“First, yes, I knew. But only after it went to print. I hire people to find every mention of me, Steve, of course I knew. For the record, you could have stayed in, they have a spread on their website, too.”

“Unbelievable.”

Tony held up his hand. “I’ve been talking with PR since we found out. We’ll take care of this, but there’s only so much we can do at this point.”

“You said it would never be an issue, Tony. That was part of our agreement. You promised me Ian would stay out of the papers.”

“And you know how much I’ve caught?” Tony’s voice started to raise. “While you go planning play dates with the children of socialite queens and tech kings, I’ve had my team stop the sale of photos. I’ve crushed at least half a dozen potential stories.”

“Until now.” Steve crossed his arms and glared down at Tony. At some point during their argument, he was vaguely aware of Pepper and Cly quietly leaving the room, but it was barely worth his notice.

He should have trusted his initial instinct. He should have talked to Bucky earlier, should have paid attention when he said that Tony couldn’t keep everything at bay. This had been a huge mistake.

“Steve. Take a deep breath and think about this for a minute.”

“There’s nothing to think about, Tony. It’s out.”

“It is out. And so long as we control the media output from here on, the people will lose interest. Right now, it’s new, it’s sensation-”

Steve slammed his hands on the desk. “Ian is not sensation, he’s my son.”

“And,’ Tony said, “very soon people won’t care. It’ll be life. Ian Rogers will just be another fact of life that no one but this household cares about.”

Steve grit his teeth. It wasn’t that simple. Sure, after this initial wave, Ian wouldn’t be so interesting to the scandal mongers. But something would always come up. The world at large was aware of him now, and when it was a slow news day, they would decide to pick at the scandal that so clearly existed.

Powerful businessman dumped by long term boyfriend. Five years later, they reunite, but boyfriend has a son with no mother in sight. It was cannon fodder for the tabloids, the type of thing they lived on.

They had gotten Ian in their crosshairs, and they wouldn’t let him escape.

Tony stood and came around his desk. He reached out a hand but at the last minute pulled back.

“You weren’t expecting Ian,” Steve said. “You’ve barely said anything to him this whole time.”

Tony took in a sharp breath and averted his gaze. But he said, voice steady, “Let’s sit down with the PR team. We do a press release, quash rumors before they can begin. Correct the ones already suggested. Steve. I’ve lived with this kind of thing my whole life.” He raised his eyes again and held Steve’s gaze. “From before I was born, I was in the papers. I couldn’t do a thing without someone pointing it out.”

“And they did,” Steve said flatly. “More than one bender when you were underage.”

“And that kept up. You kept up with me.”

Steve didn’t respond to the accusation. It was both true and false. Steve’s vices were different than Tony’s. Had been.

“Kids, I don’t know. Ian, I don’t know. That’s your territory. And for what it’s worth, you’ve done a great job. Jarvis doesn’t stop talking about him these days.”

“Get to the point, Tony.”

“Trust me. This is my element. The initial damage has been done, and I am sorry, Steve. But we can curtail this. We can control it.”

Steve clenched his fists and barely resisted hitting the desk again. “You couldn’t last time.”

Tony didn’t flinch. Both his gaze and voice were steady as he said, “I wasn’t in control last time. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.”

Steve felt the fight go out of him. He still felt angry as hell, and even worse he was scared. He was scared about the scrutiny Ian would come under. But dwelling on what had already happened was useless. They needed to find a solution.

“Fine,” Steve says. “How do we do this?”

“You’re not going to like it, but we have to introduce Ian to the public.”

Tony was right; Steve didn’t like it.

\--

“And the mother?” Cly asked.

“Not relevant,” Steve said firmly. There were several of them in the room. It was the Tony’s meeting room within the mansion, connected to his home office. The last time Steve had been here in this kind of capacity was when Tony didn’t show for a PR intervention years ago, right before Steve left him. The time before that, he had having sex with Tony on the very table he sat at.

The very first time was also sex. But the second time was the very uncomfortable public announcement of Steve and Tony’s relationship. Then, Tony had held Steve’s hands, and they could barely keep their eyes off one another to speak with the then Stark Tech PR head.

Now Steve sat stiffly beside Tony. Tony’s hand came to rest lightly on his thigh, but Steve did not react.

Cly sighed, shaking her head. “The press will ask questions-”

“And as the father, Mr. Rogers is entitled to withhold that information,” Jennifer Walters said. Jennifer was among new counsel, hired on to manage Tony's estates sometimes in the intervening years during Steve and Tony’s break-up. Steve didn’t know her well, not yet, but he liked what she said.

She was a small, unassuming woman, but she spoke with a power and confidence Steve had not often run into.

“It is my job to try to suppress these questions-” Cly said, voice raising.

“Then do your job,” Jennifer said. “In this matter, Steve has the right to privacy.”

“And if the mother decides to make trouble-”

Steve cut in. “She won’t.” He felt Tony’s hand tense a little. Tony hadn’t asked, and for that Steve appreciated him. He knew Tony wanted to, but he had held back.

The meeting went on, Cly asking question after question. Steve answered less than a handful of them.

Cly grew more and more frustrated with each non-answer. “You’re making it very hard to do what you want me to do.”

Tony spoke for the first time. “That’s why I promoted you, Cly. You’re among the best.”

She laughed, a little darkly. “Thanks, Tony. Alright, what’s your statement on this whole thing?”

Steve finally looked at Tony. Tony kept his gaze on Cly as he slowly answered. “I am happier than ever,” he said. “And I am the luckiest man alive to have both Steve and Ian in my life.”

“And what about Mr. Rog-”

“That’s all I have to say at the moment, Cly.” Tony smiled, slow. It was his business smile, one that Steve had seen so often over the years. It meant danger; it meant that Tony had set his mind on something, and the person on the receiving end was going to accept his deal in the end.

Cly knew it, too. She stopped questioning him.

“Okay,” she said. “Unless there’s anything else either of you or Ms. Walters would like to say, I’ll mock up a press release for you all to approve. I mean, ideally, I’d like something from Ian, too, the cute factor you know, but I’m guessing that’s out.”

“That’s right,” Steve said.

“Thank you, Cly,” Tony said.

“Sure.” She shrugged her shoulders. “The trick will be making this seem like you’re actually saying something.”

“You can handle it.”

Cly rolled her eyes. She collected her things and stood. “Good luck, Ms. Walters.”

Jen shook her hand. “A pleasure as always.”

Once Cly had left, Jen reached in her bag, withdrawing a folder. “And now to other business,” she said. She pulled out a sheet of paper and passed it over to Tony. Tony glanced over it before handing it to Steve.

The letterhead had Walters, Rosenthal, and Murdock emblazoned across it. He skipped down, and as he read, it crinkled beneath his tightening grip.

“Adoption?” he said, voice dripping with accusation. “We haven’t discussed this Tony.”

“It’s going to come up eventually,” Tony said. He no longer had his hand on Steve’s thigh. If he had, Steve would have brushed him off. “I’d rather we set up the paperwork now.”

“No,” Steve said, firmly. “We sit and talk about this first, before we do anything. You have no right to make any decisions about my son, Tony.”

“I’m simply talking paperwork, Steve. And it’s not just adoption. It’s about inheritance. And that’s my choice alone. If something happened to me, I want both of you taken care of.”

Steve set down the paper and pushed it back to Jennifer. “Fine, Tony. But we’re not doing this now. It’s your money, you control what you do with it. But Ian is my son, and we don’t talk legal proceedings until we can be a family together. And we haven’t been.”

Jennifer placed the sheet back in her folder. She crossed her hands and firmly held Steve’s eye as she spoke. “As for the inheritance, Mr. Rogers, it’s already been signed over to you and to your son should anything happen to Tony. You’ve already been granted Power of Attorney. When Matt and I took over representation for Tony, we received all his legal files, and in there was a copy of your PoA. And unless you refiled and failed to inform us, Tony has PoA for you. If you would like to change that, that’s something you and I can discuss privately.”

She passed over her card after writing her private phone number on it. Tony didn’t say a word as Steve tucked it into his wallet.

“Thank you,” Steve said. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you.” Her smile was warm and genuine. “I’m looking to seeing more of you. Socially, of course.”

Her warmth was infectious. Steve returned the smile. “Sounds good to me.”

They all stood, shook hands, and Jennifer left the meeting room. That left just Steve and Tony.

“You’re right,” Tony said. “We should have talked it over first. I’m sorry.”

Steve sat back down with a sigh, letting his head fall into his hands. He stared at the wood of the table. “We don’t have to move fast,” he said at last. “The first time around… Well, they don’t say whirlwind for nothing.”

Tony chuckled. “Fast, huh? I guess it was. Felt like ages at the time, though.”

Steve sighed. “I was happy again. And that made everything go by in a blur.”

Steve hadn’t had much of a life on his own. Once he’d been dishonorably discharged for insubordination, it had been only a year before meeting Tony. And the rest, after that… That was a complicated history.

“You ready for the charity auction?” Tony said.

“Not yet. But we will be.”

Cly and Tony were right; at this point, they had to introduce Ian in some formal way, and outside of the press release, the charity auction would be the first event to show Ian off. It was next month, which was closer than Steve liked. It wasn’t exactly the kind of event a four year old should be at, but now, with Tony hosting, it would be expected for Ian to make a showing.

Steve closed his eyes. This was finally Ian’s life, no matter what Steve wanted. Bucky was right; he had been foolish to think he could protect Ian from Tony Stark’s media-circus lifestyle.

It was Steve’s fault. He had forgotten what it had been like at first. He had gotten used to the lifestyle years ago, and he had forgotten again, until just now.

\--

 

“I didn’t want this for him,” Steve told Sam.

They were sitting in Sam’s office while Ian played with some of the toys he kept in the corner for younger kids. Sam’s job as a social worker, working mostly with disenfranchised youth, meant that he had things from blocks to video games on hand. Sometimes, kids just needed a place away, and Sam tried to provide that.

“Well,” Sam started, looking at Steve with a raised eyebrow, “you weren’t doing much for yourself before.”

“Tony didn’t like his childhood. He was always in the spotlight.”

“And you aren’t Tony’s parents.”

Steve shook his head. “But you would think Tony would understand. Would do things differently.”

“Have you told him that?”

“I try. Tony is just preoccupied with himself.”

Sam shrugged at Steve. “If it frustrates you that much, why did you go back?”

Steve sighed. Sam wouldn’t just let him stew, but had to push him to be reasonable. “Because even with the lack of privacy, Ian could have a better life than I could ever give him.”

It stung to admit at times, but it was true.

Sam ran a hand over his beard. “Steve, you were holed up in that apartment a long time.”

“I know. I was… lost.”

Sam looked at him with a frown. Sam was still sympathetic and understood; Steve was worried for Ian’s safety. But that look meant he had something else to say. “Lost is… one way to put it.” Sam didn’t remind Steve of offering to lend him money. He didn’t remind Steve of how he straight up ignored any advice either he or Bucky tried to offer. “But even then, you still loved Ian. You still do. And what you have to do is do what makes you happy as well as what’s best for Ian. It’s tricky. If, ultimately, this thing with Tony is destructive to you, then it won’t be good for Ian, either. But you can’t go back to that apartment of yours.”

“I can’t,” Steve said. “Someone else moved in.”

They shared a laugh. Sam was right, though. “I love Tony,” Steve said, watching Ian build up a tower of blocks. “But when it was just me, being ignored didn’t seem to be so… important.”

“And now?”

“Now, it’s not just about me. It’s about Ian. And when Tony and I go to his business dinners, he’s all I can think about. Jarvis watches him now and then, but he has his own job to take care of.”

“You need to get a proper babysitter, Steve. Someone you can trust.”

“Feel like that’s in short supply these days.”

“Come on. You trust me and Bucky.”

“You’ve both got jobs.”

“You got some rich friends. Maybe they can help you find someone.”

Wanda would likely have some suggestions. Although she worked from home, she spoke about childcare when the boys weren’t in school.

“And what does that solve?” Steve asked.

“First, you know Ian’s safe no matter what. Second, you have time to talk to Tony. That’s what both of you need to do, but you can’t when you don’t feel comfortable leaving Ian alone for a few hours.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Part of my job.” Sam clapped Steve’s shoulder. “Look, man. You have my number. You need me, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thanks.”

They talked for a while longer, but then, when Ian picked up a toy stethoscope, he remembered the doctor’s appointment. “Ah, almost forgot, Ian’s got a visit with Dr. Kincaid.”

“Not Blake?” Sam asked.

“No. Tony insisted.” Sam rolled his eyes, which showed just what he thought of that. Steve agreed; Blake had seen Ian often when Ian was just a baby. He had a free clinic that he ran as often as he could, and Steve had taken advantage of those. He liked Dr. Blake, too. He was funny and charming and had a great way with children. He was a little forgetful at times, but his partner, Dr. Foster, more than made up for that.

“I’ll go with you, if it’s not too much trouble,” Sam said. “Don’t know when I’ll next get off.”

“I’d welcome it.”

Dr. Kincaid’s office was in a tall office building, amid a dozen other businesses. It was very different than Drs. Blake and Foster’s practice. The furniture was much finer and all looked new, the paintings on the walls were originals of modern artists, and the receptionists were all wearing very nice (and likely expensive) outfits.

It also had a beautiful view over the city. Ian pressed his face against the floor-to-ceiling window. “Daddy!” he said, pointing, “look!”

Steve followed his finger and saw a sliver of the mansion’s roof between the other tall buildings. “Good eye,” he said.

Ian beamed.

Unfortunately, his mood didn’t last. They didn’t have to wait long before Dr. Kincaid himself came out to greet Steve and Ian. He looked friendly enough, but the large glasses on his face were perhaps his most prominent feature. He shook Steve’s hand a little more enthusiastically than was necessary. “Mr. Rogers, it’s a pleasure.” He turned his attention to Ian. “And this is your son? Very nice to meet you, too.”

Ian clutched Steve’s hand a little tighter.

They left Sam in the waiting room, armed with copies of The New York Times, Forbes, and Vogue.

“You know,” Dr. Kincaid said as he ushered them in, “I usually make house visits for Mr. Stark, given how busy he is. When you said you wanted to meet here, well, I was surprised.”

“It’s good to get out of the house,” Steve said. “Besides, I’d rather not put you out of your way.”

Dr. Kincaid looked surprised. “Well, we already shifted scheduling to fit you in. A house visit would not have been a problem.”

Steve grit his teeth, but refrained from commenting. He and Tony were going to talk that night. “I didn’t realize. Thank you for seeing us today.”

Dr. Kincaid didn’t seem bothered. He gestured for Ian to sit down on the examining table. “Now, we can do health history first, or I can get started with the exam, either way.”

Steve opted for the exam. He and Dr. Kincaid were going to have to have a long chat, and he preferred Ian waited outside with Sam for that.

Dr. Kincaid weighed and measured Ian, then poked and prodded, asked him how he was feeling, and Ian just muttered that he was okay. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor, trying very hard not to scream or recoil. Steve wouldn’t have blamed him. While Dr. Kincaid clearly knew what he was doing, his bedside manner was lacking.

“Do you normally have children patients?” Steve asked. He stood next to the table, stroking Ian’s back. It calmed Ian, and he leant back into the touch.

“Mmm?” Dr Kincaid looked up from his computer where he was inputting something. “Oh, no, very few. Ian’s the first in a while, aren’t you, buddy?”

Ian scowled and grabbed Steve’s hand.

Dr. Kincaid pronounced Ian in perfect health, and Steve accompanied him out to Sam. When he turned to go back, Ian said, “Don’t leave me!”

“Hey, you’re with Uncle Sam,” Steve said. “I have to go back and talk with the doctor, okay?”

“I hate him.”

Sam spoke up. “I hope that wasn’t about me.”

Ian shook his head. “No. I hate the doctor.”

“Hey, kiddo, I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?” He bopped Ian softly on the nose, which made Ian giggle.

Sam got Ian to settle on his lap and pulled out his tablet to find one of the children’s books he kept on it.

When Steve returned, this time to Dr. Kincaid’s office, Dr. Kincaid was on the phone with someone.

“-ark, it’s fine. Yes. Perfect. I will see you then.”

Dr. Kincaid grinned at Steve and gestured to a chair as he slipped his phone away. “Normally a nurse does this, but I understand the need for privacy for some patients. So, shall we?”

It began simply enough, with Dr. Kincaid asking about any past illnesses that Ian ever had. Steve was proud to say that Ian had just had a small bout of chickenpox at two, but had otherwise never had any health problems.

“I might as well do your medical history as well, Mr. Rogers, if I may?”

“Sure.”

Dr. Kincaid ran through his questions relating to Steve’s family health history, and Steve answered honestly and thoroughly.

Then Dr. Kincaid reached sexual history. “Are you currently sexually active?”

“Before we go further, I need you to understand something. And it can’t leave this room.”

“Of course.”

“I mean it. I heard you on the phone with Tony. You can’t tell him any of this.”

Dr. Kincaid looked offended, and Steve was relieved as he adopted an extremely professional tone that also held pride. “I am bound by doctor-patient confidentiality, even with Mr. Stark’s sway. Nothing will leave this room. Although you may be under the assumption I am his spy, I am his doctor. As I am now yours and your son’s.”

Steve took a deep breath, before speaking. “I am currently sexually active. However, I was abstinent for five years, immediately following my split with Tony Stark at the time. So unless there’s something Tony isn’t telling me, I don’t need an STD test, which I know Tony would have asked you to politely inquire about at least, because he’s the only person I’ve slept with for… years.”

“But what about-”

“Ian’s adopted. He’s not my biological son.”

That took Dr. Kincaid by surprise. “I… I was putting your history and his history together, I-”

“I don’t know anything about Ian’s biological family’s medical history.” Steve kept his voice level as he spoke. “But in every respect, Ian is my son. And I am sorry that I don’t have his medical history. I wish I did. But it’s also impossible to get it at this point. He was an abandoned child.”

“But…” Dr Kincaid leafed through a folder on his desk. “I have a copy of his birth certificate here. You’re listed as the father.”

Steve tilted his chin up, meeting Dr. Kincaid’s eyes. He didn’t say anything.

Dr. Kincaid grew uncomfortable under Steve’s steady gaze. “And, uh, this Gail Richards… Is she not the mother then?”

Again, Steve did not say a word. He didn’t need to; Dr. Kincaid could work it out.

Dr. Kincaid laid the photocopy of the birth certificate down gently. “Mr. Rogers,” he began, folding his hands in front of him, “doctor-patient confidentiality does not extend to cover potential child abuse.”

“If you suspect there is child abuse present here, then please, by all means, report this. I would expect no less. I would question if you didn’t. But I have brought you into this confidence for the sake of my son. I have told you nothing but the truth here today, Dr. Kincaid. It’s up to you now to decide what is in Ian’s best interest.”

Dr. Kincaid pushed up his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think you are in any way abusing Ian,” he said, “except that if he was an abandoned child, why didn’t you report him? Why didn’t you go through the proper channels? Report him, foster, go through the paperwork… You may as well have kidnapped him in the law’s eyes, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve looked at his hands. It was maybe a poor decision, but it was one he had made. “He was barely a month old,” Steve said. “He was running a fever, and when I took him to the hospital, they just… assumed. And I let them.” Steve squared his jaw and met Dr. Kincaid’s gaze again. “It might not have been right, but here we are now.”

Steve wasn’t lying about the hospital, but he didn’t tell Dr. Kincaid the whole story. He didn’t for Ian’s safety. Because if Ian’s birth father ever found him, that would be it for Ian.

\--

“You done?” Sam said as Steve entered the lobby.

Ian wasted no time in running to him. Steve picked him up in one smooth motion, swinging him into his arms with a laugh. “Yup,” he said. “You were good for Uncle Sam, right?”

“Yeah,” Ian said, like it was obvious. He was starting to get a little sassy as he got older, and Steve couldn’t help laughing.

He held Ian close as they left. He would protect Ian at all costs. He loved him. Ian was his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see the [accompanying art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2484713) by knowmefirst! Last, but certainly not least, we have a painting of Steve and Dr. Kincaid!


	5. Chapter 5

“It’s good of you to give the man a job, Tony, but to explain what I was doing in my old neighborhood? That’s reaching. That’s like there’s something to hide.”

“There isn’t, Steve. I just thought he’d like more playmates other than Wanda’s boys. You’re the one who told me about his friends. I’m trying to be a little more proactive. So you don’t have to do everything.”

Ian idly played with Redwing as he listened to his dad and Tony argue about something. It was when he heard Cassie’s name that his head popped up. “Are we going to see Cassie?”

His dad looked down at him with a sigh. He crouched and ruffled Ian’s hair. “Turns out Cassie’s coming over to play with us. That okay with you, kiddo?”

Ian nodded. “What about America and Eli?”

“Next time.”

Behind his dad, Tony said, “Derek Bishop’s youngest, too. She’s about the same age as them. She’s been acting up lately, told him we could watch her for a few hours if he came to the auction.”

“Always dealing, Tony.”

“Hey, it’s my job.”

Ian didn’t understand what they were talking about. He was just excited to see Cassie again.

He noticed his dad was dressed in a suit, though, which meant that he had one of his “business lunches” to go to. Ian didn’t mind hanging out with Jarvis, though it was a little boring. If Cassie were there though, it might not be so bad.

However, when Jarvis announced that a guest had arrived, it wasn’t Cassie that was there. It was a man named Clint who squatted down and said, “Hey, you must be the man of the house. Nice to meet you.”

Ian looked away, shy.

“Hey, you want to see a trick?” Clint reached behind Ian’s ear and when he pulled back, there was a coin. “There, that’s for you.”

Ian gaped. “Can you do that again?”

“Of course, I can, you think it was a fluke?”

Cassie arrived shortly after, and then another girl came. She was Cassie’s age, rather than Ian’s, and she looked at everyone a bit dismissively. But Clint rounded up the three and said they were going to have fun. And if they didn’t, he would literally eat a hat.

Ian didn’t know what literally meant, but that would probably be really funny to see.

Ian decided he liked Kate. She warmed up eventually, and then she, Cassie, and Ian were running around the backyard, screeching and chasing one another. They ended up all piling up on Clint, who begged for mercy.

Ian didn’t realize, until his dad got home later that afternoon, that he didn’t really miss his dad while he was gone. Not while Clint, Cassie, and Kate were there.

From that point on, his dad went on a few more business lunches as well as dinners, but Clint was always there to watch him. The couple times that he couldn’t, there was Jarvis, and Ian liked Jarvis, too.

He told his dad all about what they did, from flying kites to playing all kinds of games from tag to Simon Says to games on Clint’s phone.

His dad grimaced at that. “Now don’t play too many phone games, okay? I’m sure you’ll be doing nothing but in ten years, so you’ll have plenty of time then.”

One day, when Kate was over again, she said, “Your dad is weird.”

“No he’s not!” Ian clutched Redwing to him tightly as he stood. No one got to say anything bad about his dad. “He’s the best.”

“He’s got that creepy mustache, and my dad says he owns like half the town.”

Ian faltered. He had no clue what she was talking about. “Dad doesn’t have a mustache.”

Kate stared at him for a moment. Then she shook her head. “No, your other dad.”

Ian realized what she was saying. He shook his head wildly. “There’s just Dad and Tony. I don’t have another dad.”

Kate said, “Whatever.”

That evening, Ian curled up against his dad. He thought about what Kate had said. “Dad?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“Kate said today that Tony’s my other dad. But he’s not.”

Underneath Ian, he felt his dad stiffen. Then his dad let out a breath. “He’s Tony, that’s right. These things can get complicated, and you don’t have to call Tony anything you don’t want to. Okay?”

Ian nodded. His dad stroked his hair. It was starting to get a little longer, and his dad could finally run his fingers through it. He liked when his dad did that.

\--

Jan called Steve regularly. “You know what we haven’t done yet?” she said.

“I have a guess,” Steve said. He tried to fight the grin off, but he couldn’t.

“One can never have a good enough wardrobe, you know. Bring your boy with you, too. I haven’t had a chance to spoil him rotten.”

“It’s pretty much what everyone’s been doing these days.”

“Even Tony?”

Steve hummed. “Well, in his own way. Having other people buy copious amounts of gifts for him.” Although Ian’s room was packed with more toys than he needed from their initial move, there were even more these days. Steve had commandeered a secondary room as a playroom and put a moratorium on Tony having people buy Ian toys.

“Okay, Steve, I’m picking you up in an hour, be ready.”

An hour was a generous amount of time coming from Janet. Steve couldn’t recall how many times she had whisked him away without notice to shop, lunch, or swim. Jan was a force of nature unto herself, and far be it from Steve to try to stand in her way.

She arrived promptly, and with her was an old, but welcome face. “Rachel!” Steve said. He’d seen her for the first time in years when she did Ian’s clothes the night of the engagement party. Unfortunately, Steve had been distracted at the time.

Rachel grinned wide and threw her arms around Steve. “Oh my gosh, last time we did not get a proper hello! You are totally making that up to me right now!”

He looked her up and down. Her hair was an even brighter shade of pink now, and she had shaved one side. “You look fantastic,” he said.

She gave him a wink. “Ought to, I put a lot of thought into it.”

Jan slung her arm casually around Rachel’s shoulder. Rachel was a lot taller than she was, but height was never a thing to stop Janet. “I never got to thank you for giving me her number, Steve. She’s been amazing, and she has a real eye for design.”

Rachel leaned into Jan’s side. “I’m just honored to work with the Janet Van Dyne.”

They burst into giggles, and Steve could only shake his head with a grin. “Glad it all worked out.”

Jan crouched to the floor. “Hey, Ian, do you remember me?”

He nodded slowly. Steve put a hand on his hair and ruffled it. “It’s okay, Jan’s a good friend of mine. And this is Rachel, we go way back.”

Rachel waved her fingers. “Oh my gosh, you’ve gotten even bigger! Do you remember me? I’m Auntie Rachel.” Ian shyly waved his fingers back. Rachel put a hand up to her mouth. “Oh, you are too charming.”

Steve felt pride well in his chest. “Yeah, he is.”

“Come on, you two,” Jan said, impatient. “We’re losing daylight. And do I have a day planned.”

She ushered them out where she had a personal convertible. Steve saw she had already installed a kid’s seat in the back, but the top was still down. “Gotta put that up,” he said, gesturing toward it.

“Will do,” Janet said with a wink. “But I thought Ian might like to see it go.”

Ian was suitably impressed as the top moved slowly over the car. “Again!” he shouted. Steve laughed and kissed his hair.

“Later,” he told Ian. “Now where off to first?”

“We all need new clothes for one charity auction hosted by Mr. Tony Stark,” Janet said with a gleam in her eye. “Then I think it’s up to Ian. Ice cream or toys?”

“Ice cream and toys,” Ian said, bouncing in his seat.

Steve was completely unsurprised that Janet had already won Ian over.

It took four stores for Janet to find something she liked for everyone. When one went shopping with Janet Van Dyne, their taste came very little into the equation. But the better she knew you, the more it fit. She knew Steve well, so she spoke authoritatively about how one cut fit him better over another. Steve went through change after change of suits, and he played up the show for Ian.

“You like this one?” he asked.

Ian shrugged. “Looks the same.”

“It is not,” Jan said, indignant. She placed her hands on Steve’s shoulders and began detailing exactly what was different from the last three suits Steve had tried on.

“I mean, ideally, I’d prefer to put you in a Van Dyne original,” she said at last, “but that’s not going to happen with only a couple weeks left. The Milan show eating everything up doesn’t help.”

Rachel found a lovely dress that was black with pink diamonds, and Jan decided on getting a basic red dress that she would modify herself. “Fusion,” she said excitedly. “Some don’t like it, but I’m all for fashion experimentation.”

For Ian, he was a little less patient trying clothes on. But Jan had a good eye, and they found a good children’s suit in just a few tries.

“You did great,” Jan told him. “My little model! Now, tell me, I think you said both ice cream and toys? Which would you like first?”

Ian voted for ice cream, so they ended up in front of a fancy shop with numerous flavors, both classic and very untraditional.

Ian and Rachel stuck with good old chocolate, while Jan went for a mixture of watermelon and lime. Steve offered a taste of mint chocolate chip, but Ian made a face that had them all in laughter.

“I needed this,” Steve said with a smile. “Just having fun.”

“You should get out more, Steve,” Jan said. “Ever need someone to tear up the town with, just call.”

“Yeah,” Rachel muttered, though it was good-natured, “that’s why you hired me, to make sure you could do as you like.”

“Mmmhmm,” Jan said, completely unrepentant.

\--

Ian couldn’t believe it. After the boring clothes shopping, Jan and Rachel had taken them for ice cream and then to this giant toy store. Ian had been able to pick out anything he wanted, though his dad told him only one thing. As his dad said, he had enough toys at home already.

But those were different. Those were things that Tony had gotten him. This was something Ian got to pick out.

He could have spent hours looking at everything, but his dad promised they would come back one day. So Ian picked out a stuffed doll that was a superhero. He had a long cape, and tufts of blond hair that stuck up. He asked his dad to read the name on the tag, and it was “Nomad.”

“It’s you, daddy,” Ian said. “See, he has your hair.”

That made his dad laugh. “Well, I always did think capes looked cool.”

He really liked Jan and Rachel. They promised they would take him out again, both him and his dad.

That evening, when Tony got home and asked about their day, he asked if he could see Ian’s new toy. Ian showed it to him, hesitating a moment, because he already shared his real dad with Tony.

But Tony looked at the toy for just a moment, with a whistle of appreciation. “That does look like your dad,” he said while turning it around, which for some reason made his dad cough. “So this weekend, I was thinking we would go on a picnic. How does that sound?”

Ian liked the sound of it very much.

\--

Tony started spending more time with Ian and his dad. Instead of just watching them play, he would join in. He liked the Legos best. He would build really complex things, but sometimes he would start muttering to himself about power sources and micro transistors and all sorts of other things Ian didn’t understand. His dad rolled his eyes and shook his head, but he was more amused than anything.

Tony often suggested watching a movie in the evening, which Ian always was up for. He laid down in front of the TV on his stomach, legs in the air. They usually had popcorn, too. Ian decided popcorn was the best food in the world, after ice cream.

Once, though, he glanced back and found that Tony and his dad weren’t watching the movie. Instead, Tony was essentially in his dad’s lap, kissing his dad’s neck, and his dad’s eyes were closed. Ian whipped his head back around, not wanting to see gross grown-up kissing.

He couldn’t quite concentrate on the movie after that, but the next time they watched a movie, and he glanced back, they were both behaving themselves. He decided to just keep his eyes firmly forward and not worry about them.

One day, Tony came home and asked if Ian wanted to see something cool. The answer was an enthusiastic, “Yes!” and Ian followed Tony through the mansion.

His dad followed behind them, and Ian heard him mutter, “Please no skates.”

“Wait here,” Tony said, stopping outside his office. His office, his dad once told him, was connected to a lab that Ian was under no circumstances ever allowed in.

They waited patiently, Ian mimicking his dad as he leaned against the wall. He crossed his arms like his dad. though it took him a minute to figure it out. When Steve noticed, he gave him an affectionate smile.

Tony came out a few minutes later with a flat, white board in his hand.

“The backyard would be best,” Tony said, leading them back through the mansion.

When they arrived, Tony had them sit on a bench while he held up the board. “Watch closely, this is a genuine Stark invention. I don’t do much these days, so you’re in for a treat.”

Ian perched on the edge of the bench. Although he had no idea what was about to happen, he felt excited. The board didn’t look like much, but Tony held it as if it were something wonderful.

“Now, gentlemen, if you’ll watch closely.”

Tony ran his fingers along the edge of the board, which were about an inch thick. Then, there was a soft humming, and Tony placed the board on the ground.

Well, he tried anyway, but it didn’t go down. It _floated_. Ian’s mouth dropped open. “Whoa,” he said, reverently. He slipped off the bench and pressed his side into the ground to look underneath it. He would be able to stick his hand in the gap, but not much more than that. But the important thing was that it floated above the grass.

“Want to try it?” Tony said, with a grin.

Ian looked to his dad first. His dad sighed, but he was smiling, too. He was impressed. “Be careful. Hold Tony’s hand the entire time, okay?”

Ian nodded. Tony lifted him up with a little, “Oof.” Before he put Ian down on the board, he said, “It’s not going to rock unless you try to, so just keep your balance, and you’ll be fine.”

Tony lowered Ian to the board slowly. It felt like there was something hard underneath him, but also not. It was a weird sensation, like some kind of strange pressure. Ian gripped Tony’s hands tightly in either of his and gave a big whoop. “Look, daddy!” he said. “Look!”

Steve clapped. “I’m looking. You’re doing well.”

“Does it move?” Ian asked excitedly. Tony looked offended.

“Does it move?” he said. “Of course it moves. Hang on, kiddo.”

Ian spent the rest of the afternoon with Tony and his dad, playing with the hoverboard. Tony showed them some tricks that his dad forbid Ian from doing until he was older. Tony explained to his dad boring things, such as how it was just a prototype, and his dad kept reminding Ian he could only play with it when he was being supervised. Ian didn’t mind; he was having too much fun.

Tony was pretty okay, even if he did go around kissing his dad.

\--

Steve didn’t want to believe it, but the past week had been good. Really good. Tony had really stepped up, and Steve felt like he could really have the best of both worlds: his son and the man he loved.

It didn’t hurt to delegate some separate time to each, though, so he asked if Wanda could watch Ian for an evening, giving Ian some time to play with the twins, and Steve and Tony an evening to themselves. It was the night before the charity auction, and that seemed as good a time as any.

“You’re starting to sound like me,” Wanda said with a laugh. “Better return the favor one of these days. Could do with one of those nights ourselves.”

“Of course. Thank you, Wanda.”

“You’re welcome. And Steve? I’m glad you’re happy again.”

Steve was, too.

When Tony got home that evening, Steve greeted him by pressing him up against the wall and kissing him long and hard. He let his hands wander along Tony’s body, tugging at his jacket.

“I appreciate this,” Tony said, breaking away to speak. “But what brought this on?”

Steve smiled at him. “Date night.”

Tony looked at him surprised for a moment, before he smirked, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Should have notified me earlier. Would have wined and dined you first.”

“Already set that up. Mr. Stark?” Steve stepped away and held out his arm. Tony straightened his jacket before hooking his arm through.

“Mr. Rogers.”

Steve led Tony to the dining room. He had given the regular staff the night off, and that included Jarvis. Jarvis lived on site, but otherwise, they were by themselves. Steve disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two plates.

Tony grinned. “Home-cooked? It’s been ages since I last had a Rogers special.”

“Trust me, it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to get my hands on ingredients this good.”

They set about eating, and although their conversation turned wholly unromantic (because stock prices and getting Ian a sandbox for the backyard were thankfully not aphrodisiacs), Steve felt at ease and more in love with Tony than he had been in a long time.

When Tony had finished, he pushed his empty plate away while saying, “That was the finest stir fry I’ve had in quite a long time.”

“Better than that place on 9th?”

Tony finished wiping his mouth before saying, “Anything you make is better than that place on 9th.”

“Flatterer.”

“I try.”

Tony shed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves to help Steve with the dishes. He did take the chance to run his fingers along Steve’s forearm, and Steve shivered from the touch.

The dishes ended up abandoned as they opted to make out, Steve pressed back against the marble counter.

It took every bit of Steve’s self control to not shed all his clothes here and now. “Bedroom,” he gasped as Tony bent his head and sucked at Steve’s neck.

They stumbled their way to Tony’s room. Once upon a time, they would have shed their clothes through the hallways. Now they were older with a little more decorum, so they managed to wait until the door slammed behind them. Then, clothes flew.

Tony had Steve pushed up against the wall, kissing his way down Steve’s body. Steve’s breath came in short gasps. God, he had missed this.

They didn’t have the stamina they used to, so they drew it out. They slowed down, took the time to just feel each other’s bodies, to map out their torsos with fingers and lips and tongues. Steve sighed against Tony’s neck as he opened Steve up slowly. Tony came first, chest pressed against Steve’s back, buried in Steve. They tossed the condom, and then Steve rubbed himself off against Tony’s thigh.

They panted against one another, hearts racing still, covered in sweat. Steve pressed his forehead against Tony’s. Their eyes met, and though there were more wrinkles, it felt like ten years ago, when this was all still new. Steve kissed Tony, rough, impatient, but the kiss broke down into a slow, lingering kiss.

When they broke apart, Tony murmured, “Wow.”

Steve pressed Tony further into the bed. “That’s all you have to say?”

“No.” Tony pulled Steve in for another kiss, hand tangling in his hair. “I love you.” He said this against Steve’s mouth. Steve could only just understand him.

Steve breathed against Tony’s shoulder, taking in his cologne that still clung underneath the smell of sex.

They rolled over, so Tony’s head was pillowed against Steve’s arm.

"Remember how it used to be?” Tony said. “We would just stay in bed for days, having great sex, talking, having more great sex..."

"Yeah, I seem to remeber existing on a diet of cigarettes and wine"

Tony chuckled and lightly kissed Steve’s bicep.“You're the one who smoked not me."

Steve snorted. "Like you wouldn't steal half the ones I lit up."

"I like using your things. It's sexy, romantic."

"Sure, Tony."

They stayed like that, cuddled together, for several long quiet moments. At last, Tony said, voice quiet, "Stay with me. Let's do it again."

Although Steve did not move, he replied, "Ian will be home soon."

"I guess you're right. I miss those days though." Tony sat up with a heavy sigh. Steve noticed the slight slump in his shoulders that didn’t use to be there. He reached up a hand to carress Tony’s back.

"We were younger men, Tony. Young, reckless, thought it was us against the world."

"I guess with age comes responsibility, huh?"

Steve sat up and pressed his lips against Tony’s shoulder. "Responsibility isn't a bad thing."

"Didn't say it was. Just different." Tony leaned in to gently kiss Steve, one hand trailing down his face.

"Age brings experience, too,” Steve said. “Something we sorely lacked then."

"Yeah. But one can argue stubbornness is a less refined trait of age." Tony rubbed circles over Steve’s skin. “Hey. Thank you for tonight. It was a good surprise.”

Steve rested his head against Tony’s. “We have our issues,” Steve said, speaking slowly.

“You can say that again.”

“But I love you, Tony.”

“And I love you, Steve. So much.”

Steve still wasn’t sure this would last. But he hoped. He sure as hell hoped.

Tomorrow, things were going to be rough. He wanted to remember this moment. It may be all he had.


	6. Chapter 6

Ian decided he hated suits. His dad and Tony wore them all the time, but they made him feel stiff and uncomfortable. At least his new one was more comfortable than the last one he wore.

His dad said he was going to be “introduced.” It sounded boring. However, Kate was supposed to be there, as well as Clint, which made it better.

It was just a moment later that Clint appeared, fumbling with his own tie. “Jesus, Steve,” Clint muttered, “how the he- heck do you tie these things?”

His dad sighed and shook his head. “Come here.” He did up Clint’s tie. “You ever consider a clip on?”

“Now that’s just tacky,” Clint said. But then, “You think it’d be okay?”

His father laughed in that way that rumbled through his entire body.

Before they headed down to the party (“charity auction” everyone said,) his dad sat him down and said, “I have to do a lot of mingling tonight. That means I can’t always keep an eye on you, okay? But Clint will be here, and so will Kate, so you’ll have someone to play with.”

Ian didn’t like the sound of it at all. But he nodded, because that’s what his dad wanted him to do.

It was in the same big hall as the other party, but this time, instead of streamers and balloons, there were tables set up all over with crystal fountains in the center of each. Instead of a band set on on stage, there was a short row of chairs and a big easel and table, with a podium on the other side. People were in even fancier dress. Also, this time, he got quite a few more interested looks. Ian clung to his father’s hand a little more tightly.

“Steve Rogers,” one man said, coming up. He stood out the most by wearing a short half cape over his fine suit. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

Steve shook his hand warmly. “T’Challa. I’m surprised you could make it here.”

“I had… other business in New York, shall I say. Also, I may not have much of a chance in the future.”

“The throne, the abdication. I’d heard.”

T’Challa shrugged a shoulder. “Father has been talking about it non-stop. And I am proud to do it, make no mistake. But a few less chances to see the world.”

Ian stopped paying attention and glanced around the room. There was a very short man who was arguing with a tall dark woman and kept pointing over at them. But when Steve finally parted with T’Challa, it was toward T’Challa that they moved.

There was a string of people that Steve kept stopping to speak with. Each time, he also introduced Ian, and Ian muttered a shy, “Hi.”

A few of them talked about their own children. “Valeria is only a baby, but Franklin’s almost four,” one woman said. “Maybe we should arrange something.”

“That sounds great,” his dad replied. “Ian certainly could use more playmates.”

“Well, Reed and I are off to a conference next week, taking the kids, but maybe when we get back.”

One man with a high forehead and an unpleasant expression on his face gave Ian only half a glance. “You spawned,” he said.

“Good to see you, too, Namor.”

Namor’s smile was more of a tight smirk than anything. “Wouldn’t have come unless there was something I actually wanted here.”

Steve nodded. “It is a charity auction, though, you know.”

Namor shrugged.

Despite his offhand demeanor, he clasped Steve warmly on the shoulder as they each moved on.

Ian started fidgeting. He was getting hungry, even though dinner hadn't been too long ago. Other people were eating. He saw the lawyer, Jennifer, with a plate piled high with little round things. When she saw Steve and Ian, she hurried over.

“Steve, Ian! How are you both?”

Ian pointed to her plate. “What’s that?”

She lowered it down for him to see. “Shrimp,” she said. “Want to try one?”

Ian made a face and pressed himself against his dad. Adults ate gross things here.

At some point, Tony joined them as they circled the room. He had a warm smile for Ian and hooked his arm through Steve’s free one. “Short introductory speech,” he said. “Then we can go back, I promise. Ian doesn’t have to stay much longer after that.”

Ian felt a flood of panic fill him. He didn’t want to leave his dad. “I want to stay,” he insisted.

Steve must have caught the panic in his voice. “Hey, it’s okay, Ian. You can stay. But we have to go up to the stage, and you have to behave, okay?”

Ian nodded.

He trailed along with Steve and Tony as they made their way to the stage. They got more funny looks as they went, and Ian squirmed in his suit.

Steve and Ian stopped at the edge of the stage while Tony took the center. The music died down (Ian saw there was a live band, but they were in a different part of the big room), and Tony addressed the crowd.

“I would just like to take a moment to thank you all for being here,” he said. “The auction will start in about half an hour, but before then, I wanted to thank two very special people.

“First is a man many of you already know. Some of you don’t. It’s my pleasure to have him in my life. Please, give a warm hand to my partner, Steve Rogers, without whom, I would do nothing but work.”

That got a laugh from the crowd. There was a round of applause, and Steve stepped forward. He still held Ian’s hand, so Ian trailed behind. Tony wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulder and brought him in for a chaste kiss. The crowd’s applause continued.

Tony then turned back. “And it’s with the greatest pleasure that I can introduce the most charming young man I’ve had the honor to meet and care for. May I introduce Ian Rogers, whom I love as if he were my own flesh and blood.”

People applauded again, but this was slightly more subdued. A murmuring wave swept through the crowd. Ian glanced up at his father, and his father’s smile was plastered on. There was no feeling behind it. It made Ian want to shrink behind him, but he couldn’t. So he waved, a little frantically, and that garnered a laugh from the crowd.

After that, there were more people who wanted to talk with Steve. One was a woman who looked like she planned to eat Ian and insisted he call her Ophelia. His dad was short with her and hustled Ian over to Clint. Kate was with him.

His dad picked Ian up to talk with him for a moment.

“Okay,” he said, “I have to go take a seat for the auction. It’s going to be a little boring, but if you and Kate want to watch for a little while, you can. You have to be quiet, though, okay?”

Ian nodded.

To Clint, Steve said, “If it gets to nine, put Ian to bed. Mr. Bishop’s aide also brought some things for Kate.”

“Got it, boss,” Clint said with a grin.

Ian watched his dad disappear into the crowd as everyone made their way to seats that were set up in front of the stage.

The auction itself was, as his dad had said, very boring. Shortly after it began, Clint took Kate and Ian out of the ballroom.

They ended up playing with a bunch of Ian’s stuffed toys and trains. When Ian’s stomach rumbled, Clint promised they could get a treat. The kitchen was swamped with staff, but Jarvis noticed them as he walked in to swap out a tray of empty champagne glasses for full ones.

“Here, let me see if we have anything,” he told the three of them. Anything turned out to be three bowls of the creamiest chocolate pudding Ian had ever tasted. “A little preview of dessert, just for the three of you.”

Kate thanked him as she began eating. Ian had to wait for Clint to tie a bib around his neck. “It’s just a little messy, little guy,” he explained.

Ian ate eagerly. There was also whipped cream on top, and he saved a scoop of that for last.

It was almost bedtime when they were finished, so Clint had them change and brush their teeth. He had to help Ian out of his suit, but otherwise, Ian could manage his pajamas himself.

As Clint carefully hung up Kate’s dress, Ian asked if he was going to read them a bedtime story.

“Sure, sport. But how about we let Kate pick one out, since she’s our guest.”

Kate picked out a book of fairy tales, and Clint read to them until they fell asleep together in Ian’s bed.

\--

Ian woke up to find the room pitch dark. He heard Kate lightly snoring next to him. However, neither his dad nor Clint were around. He slipped out of bed and headed toward the door. He looked out; the hallway was well lit, but otherwise empty.

Ian wandered down the hallway. He was a little more sure of where things were in the mansion, but he still got lost sometimes. Keeping a hand against the wall, he walked quietly down the halls. He couldn’t hear the party, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still going on.

He stopped when he heard low voices arguing. Ian held his breath as he peeked around the corner. He saw Tony standing with his back against one wall. There was an old man in front of him, white beard, bald head, and broad all over. Ian couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Tony motioned to the man to follow him, and they disappeared into Tony’s office.

Ian crept up, being as quiet as he could. The door wasn’t totally closed, so he peeked through it. From his vantage point, he could see Tony half sitting on his desk. The other man walked in front of him, occasionally blocking Ian’s view of Tony.

“Your theatrics won’t get you anywhere,” Tony said. “And you really think Hammer is going to go for all this?”

The other man scoffed. “You think Hammer hasn’t already agreed. Give it up, Tony. Stark Industries isn’t doing well. Go into business with me, we’ll bring it back up.”

Tony looked angry. “You’ll just suck it dry for your own purposes, Stane.”

“I’m the better option than Hammer. You know why you don’t see Horgan around here these days?”

Tony glanced away. “Already knew Hammer absorbed his company.”

“I won’t do that to you, Tony.” Ian’s view was cut off as the other man - Stane? - moved in front of Tony. “Think it over.”

“Stark Industries is doing just fine, and when it becomes Stark International, we’ll be doing even better.”

“You can’t make it unless you get some help.”

“Not if the help is coming from you.”

Ian lost track of their argument; they argued stocks and production and factories, none of which Ian understood. Tony was getting angrier and angrier. He kept control; he didn’t shout or yell, but his voice became more strained.

Stane was blocking Ian’s view again, so he tried to lean forward to see past him. However, he misjudged and ended up hitting his head on the door.

Ian bit back a scream. He clutched at his head, and then, suddenly, he was being picked up. “Hey, hey, you’re okay,” Tony said, holding him to his chest. “Can you let me see it, please?”

Ian moved his hands away for Tony. It still stung, but it wasn’t as sharp. Ian felt tears prick at his eyes, but he was determined not to cry.

“Yeah, you’ll be okay. It’s okay.” Tony stroked his back. “Were you sleep walking?”

Behind Tony, Stane scowled. “We’ll talk more about this, Tony.”

Tony paid him barely a glance as Stane left the two of them.

“I… my dad wasn’t there. And Clint wasn’t, either,” Ian said.

Tony smiled kindly. “Your dad’s still at the auction. As for Clint… Well, you and me both, kid. Let’s get you back to bed, okay?”

They met Clint halfway to Ian’s room.

“Oh, thank god,” Clint said when he saw Tony and Ian. “I just went to grab a bite, when I got back-”

“It’s okay,” Tony said. “No harm done.”

Tony carried Ian all the way back to his room. From there, Clint took Ian to tuck him into bed. Tony ran an affectionate hand over his head. “You be good and stay in bed. Your dad will come up later tonight.”

“Okay.”

Kate was sitting awake in the bed. “There he is,” she said, pointing at Ian.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Very helpful, thank you.”

Just as Clint was settling them back in, Jarvis appeared at the door for Kate. Mr. Bishop was heading home, and Jarvis had come to collect Kate and her things. Ian waved her goodbye before obediently scooting under the covers.

He hoped his dad would be done with the party soon.

\--

Steve glanced around the room. He hadn’t seen Tony for awhile. Steve held back a sigh. This felt too familiar. At least this time, it couldn’t be because Tony was getting drunk. He’d been true to his word and sober for the last couple months.

He caught a glimpse of Tony coming down the staircase, and he politely excused himself once again from Sarkissian’s company. She kept coming to talk to him, and tonight, the topic had revolved uncomfortably around Ian.

“You okay?” Steve said, coming up beside Tony.

Tony smiled, charming as ever. “Never better. Just a little work, you know.”

Steve couldn’t say anything to that; technically, the charity auction was all part of the job, too, the job of being a multi-billionaire and one of the richest men in the country. As much as the money given tonight went to good causes, the business end meant more connections for all involved. Spend money to gain money and all that.

Much later, the last of the guests left. Steve felt tired, but he wouldn’t say no if Tony asked him to bed. But it was Tony who begged off, saying that Steve should go get some sleep.

\--

There was something Tony wasn’t telling Steve. He didn’t know what it was, but Tony became more and more distracted. He spent longer hours away, either at his office or at one of his factories, and there was one night where Steve didn’t see him at all.

Jarvis said he never came home.

Steve texted Tony reminding him about taking Ian to the Museum of Natural History. He also called Pepper and asked her to remind Tony in person.

But when Saturday came around, Tony was gone before Steve even woke up. His phone was also turned off.

Ian kicked his feet. “We don’t have to go,” he said, looking at the floor of the kitchen.

Steve leaned against the counter, phone against his ear. Straight to voicemail again. “We’ll just go ourselves then,” he muttered. “After you use the bathroom, we’ll go, okay?”

Ian shook his head. “I don’t want to go anymore.” Ian hopped off his chair and ran out of the kitchen.

He was able to coax Ian into an impromptu play date with Wanda’s kids. Wanda couldn’t come over herself, though, because of some work she herself had to finish..

At least Ian had some fun with the twins.

Tony returned late that night. Ian was already asleep, worn out from chasing after the twins. Steve waited for him in Tony’s bedroom. Tony was startled to find him there.

“Thought you’d have gone to bed by now,” Tony said, slinging his jacket on the bed.

Steve leaned against the doors that separated his and Tony’s rooms, arms crossed. “I tried calling you today.”

“Sorry, had some things I was dealing with.”

“You been drinking?”

Tony stared at him, brow furrowed. “No. Christ, Steve, I haven’t touched a drop in years. I’m not about to start now.”

“Tony, I’m glad you’re sober, I really am. But that doesn’t mean that you can make promises to my son and then break them.”

“What promises-” Tony’s mouth dropped as he realized. He rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Steve, I really am. Things got away from me today, I’ll be sure to make it up to him, okay?” He slipped off first his jacket and then began to undo his tie.

Steve took a deep breath. As much as he wanted to explode at Tony, that wasn’t going to solve anything. “It was shitty enough when it was just me. And I get it, you run a multi-billion dollar company. You’ve got work to do. But if you want this to work out, you put Ian first.”

“I said I was sorry-”

“You’re the one who brought up adoption once. And this is why I said no. Because I knew that sooner or later, you wouldn’t choose him first.”

“And what about you?” Tony threw his tie on the bed. He motioned between them. “What about this, about us, is you choosing Ian first? Isn’t is selfish to drag him to your on-off boyfriend’s house? Why did you take me back, what does that achieve for you?”

Steve’s reply was quiet. “Because you can offer him things I can’t, would never be able to. Money might not buy happiness, but it sure as hell helps when you’re trying to raise a kid.” He shook his head lightly. “This gives him opportunities he’d never had, protection… I can spend more time with him.”

“I hope I do play into this at some point, not just my money.” The words were harsh, accusatory, but there was also something more underneath, something resigned. Tony slumped to the bed, shoulders hunched.

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re frustrating, Tony. You know I wouldn’t have come back if I didn’t love you. But when it comes to my son, you have to be better.” He approached Tony slowly until he stood right in front of him. Tony averted his gaze. “You have to be the best you can be. You have to at least try. And that’s what I thought you were doing. And then today… Not again, Tony. We can’t fall into this pattern again.”

Tony didn’t say anything else, and Steve had said his part. He left without another word.

\--

A week passed, and Tony remained in absentia for most of that time. It was a wearingly familiar pattern, one that had played no small part in their break-up years before.

The week still had its surprises, however. Out of the blue, Dennis Dunphy, whom Steve had met while he and Tony were vacationing in California, called him up.

“How’s it going, Steve?” Dennis said.

Steve was happy to hear Dennis’s voice. “Aren’t you supposed to be busy with mayoral duties somewhere?”

“Lost last election, didn’t you watch the news? I’ve been unemployed since January.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Although their politics didn’t match up perfectly, Steve had kept on eye on Dennis’s initial campaign promises. He was a good man who cared about the people. It was more than unfortunate that he was out of office.

“Nevermind that, I’m going to be in town next week. It’s been too long, how about we grab lunch?”

“That sounds fantastic.”

They made plans for Tuesday, and Steve asked Clint to watch Ian. He promised Ian he would be back in just a couple of hours, and then met with Dennis at a nice restaurant not too far away.

“So you’re back with Tony Stark, huh?” Dennis said. He shook his head. “You know we were all worried for you when you up and disappeared. I didn’t even find out how off the radar you were until my Christmas cards came back ‘return to sender.’”

Steve ran a finger along the handle of his coffee mug. “Well, it was a tough time for me. And then, later, well.. Things came up.”

Dennis winked. “That boy of yours, huh? He’s cute from the few pictures I’ve seen.”

“Yeah, trying to keep him out of the papers is the hard part.”

They talked for a long time, catching up with each other. As he spoke with Dennis, it dawned on Steve that he had made most of his friends when he was with Tony the first time. Outside of that was Sam, Bucky, and Bucky’s girlfriend, Natasha. Rachel used to stop in at the store he worked at before he met Tony. But beyond that… Dennis alone he had only met when Steve and Tony had gone to see one of his wrestling matches back in the day.

That didn’t mean he felt like he didn’t have an identity of his own. These people liked him outside of what he was to Tony. That’s why they were his friends. And he cared about them and missed them, more than he thought he had.

“So I hear Stark Industries is in a bit of trouble. How’s Tony dealing with that?”

“What?” Steve frowned. “Tony hasn’t mentioned anything.”

Dennis flushed. “Uh, well, it’s not supposed to be public knowledge, as far as I’m aware. Tony really hasn’t mentioned anything to you?”

“How’d you hear this?”

Dennis shrugged, not wanting to answer the question. But at last, he said, “I know one of his lawyers - Bernie Rosenthal?”

“Haven’t met her myself yet, but I met her partner. Good people.”

“Very good people.” Dennis took a sip from his water before continuing. “Well, she asked me to get her in touch with some people in California, looking into setting up branches there, but under a new name. Not as Stark Industries. Stark Enterprises.”

Steve shook his head slowly. “Tony’s been busy, but he hasn’t said a word.”

“Maybe it’s not as bad as all that, then.”

“Thanks, Dennis,” Steve said. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. “Some days, I don’t…”

“Hey.” Dennis reached out to touch Steve’s forearm. “Anytime you need to talk, I’m here.”

“Thank you,” Steve said. He appreciated Dennis’s offer. It was an offer that had been extended to him time and again. Yet somehow, when he had needed to reach out most, when he and Tony first parted ways, he hadn’t taken advantage of any of it.

He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was that he didn’t know how to ask. Hadn’t been in a place to ask for help. Maybe he had relied on Tony too much.

He risked repeating the same mistakes.

\--

This time, Steve wasn’t going to let it go. He and Tony were going to talk this out.

Tony sat quietly across from him. They were in one of the lounges. Steve felt it was better with more neutral territory. After several long moments, Tony finally said, “Well?”

Steve met Tony’s gaze firmly. “What’s going on with the company?”

Tony’s voice was even as he said, “A bit rocky at the moment, but it’s fine. Going to expand to Stark International by the end of next year.”

“I heard Bernie Rosenthal was looking into starting up a new business called Stark Enterprises.” Steve kept his hands firmly at his side so as not to clench them into fists. He needed Tony to open up to him, not shut him out. “Can I ask what that’s about?”

“Just looking at options.” His tone, like his response, was flat.

“Please don’t insult me, Tony. I am not the press. I am supposed to be your partner.” Steve caught his voice rising, so he took another breath. “This is why we failed the first time. You just kept drawing away, and I was left alone, Tony. You need to talk to me. Or we’re just going to be doing the same thing as last time.”

Tony sighed and brought a hand up to his head. He rubbed at his temple. “Look, it’s all business huff-and-puff. Between the two of them, Justin Hammer and Obadiah Stane have been eating up the competition.”

“Thought you were working on a project with Hammer.”

“In theory.” Tony stood, clearly frustrated. He stuck his hands in his pockets and paced. “It’s a military contract in robotics we’re supposed to be coming up with a joint proposal for, but I’ve found evidence that Hammer is cutting me out. And Stane wants me to defect to him, but I trust Stane as much as I trust Hammer.” Tony started gesturing with one hand, voice rising in frustration and anger. “Add to that, my stocks have been rising dangerously fast. The kind of boom of the 20s, of the Japanese economic bubble. Fucking housing bubble level.” Tony sat down again, head in his hands. “If it crashes now, it’ll be worthless. Any chump with a couple hundred thousand will be able to buy everything.”

“Don’t you still hold majority?”

Tony shook his head slowly. His eyes looked red, partly from lack of sleep, and partly from tears prickling at his eyes. “Few years ago, we were doing badly. And it was my fault, because I was… I was wasted, Steve. Worse than… Worse than ever.”

Steve stood and moved to Tony’s side. He sat beside him. He didn’t reach out, but their thighs were pressed together.

“I only have thirty percent left. Someone could buy me out now. I didn’t think to try to buy back - I was distracted.”

Tony reached out without looking and caught Steve’s hand. He bought it up to his chest, and as he continued to speak, his voice grew stronger. “You have to trust me, though, Steve. I’ll take care of it. I’ll get it fixed, and I’ll make sure that you and Ian have everything you ever need.”

Steve turned Tony’s face towards him. “Idiot,” he muttered. “I’m here for you. To help you. And I don’t need billions to be happy. You wanted to know where you fit in, and it’s because it’s you, Tony. Let me in.”

Steve held up Tony’s hand and kissed it.

Tony leaned in for a proper kiss, free hand tangling in Steve’s hair. “I’ll take care of you,” he murmured against Steve’s lips. “Both of you.”

They were still talking at crossroads, but for now, this would do.


	7. Chapter 7

Ideally, Steve wanted to speak with Sam. But he was pretty sure Sam had had his fill of listening to Steve talk about Tony (“So break up with him, then,” had been Sam’s last suggestion. But that wasn’t what he wanted to do. If he didn’t want to be with Tony, he would have never come back in the first place.)

The problem was that Steve felt a familiar trench forming. It was a cycle of business lunches, charitable events, and Stark Industries dinner parties. They blurred together with Steve pasting on a big smile and ignoring suggestive comments from the other plus ones as to his and Tony’s recent reunion.

This finally led to him meeting with Jan and Wanda at an indoor play park. There was a dining room set off from the main play area with a clear wall, so they could easily keep a watch on Ian, Billy, and Tommy as they played. (The three kids had wolfed down hamburgers and fries, before rushing off to play.)

Earlier that morning, Jan had called, inviting Steve out on a lunch date, but he already had playdate plans with Wanda. Jan said, “Two of my favorite people, in one place? You don’t mind a third, do you?”

And that was that.

Jan and Wanda were talking about Jan’s latest line of dresses she was finishing up for a fashion show in Milan when the topic of conversation abruptly changed. “You know, Steve, you should come with me sometime,” Jan said.

Steve, who admittedly had become distracted while watching Ian play in the ballpit, said, “To Milan?”

Jan exchanged a glance with Wanda. Wanda shrugged in a way that indicated this was the continuation of a discussion about him.

“You’re welcome to come to Milan as well, if you’d like,” Jan said with a charming smile that didn’t fool Steve, “but I was speaking about next week, I’ve got the Bennet Advertising Agency showing me some ad designs, and you being the visual artist among us, I would like your professional input.”

“Not so much professional as hobby,” Steve said.

Jan waved her hand dismissively. “You skipped out on enough dinner parties of mine while you were at school doing your art projects, I can say professional if I want to.”

“Ever the grudge holder,” Steve said.

“If I can’t put those missed dinners to use, then what’s the point?” Jan shrugged as if that ended the matter and took a sip of her soda.

“You know,” Wanda said, a lazy smile on her face watching the two of them, “you should go, Steve. You might like it.”

Steve looked at Ian again who was now playing tag with the twins. “What day?”

“Tuesday,” Jan said. “They’ll be over at one at my office.”

Steve shook his head. “Tony has a business meeting he needs me for.”

Wanda and Jan exchanged another glance. Clearly, Steve was on the gossip circuit as of late.

That was a mean thought. Jan and Wanda were his friends. They were concerned. And for good reason. He rubbed a hand over his face before speaking. “If you want to ask me something, you should just ask it.”

Wanda reached out a hand to gently touch Steve’s. “How are you? Really?”

Steve gave her a wry smile. “I’d forgotten how boring it was to be arm decor.” Despite their talk, Tony wasn’t opening up more about his business worries. All Steve could do was accompany him to functions and look nice.

“Then come to my office on Tuesday,” Jan said.

“Not sure I want a job right now. I have other things to take care of.” Steve glanced over at Ian. Even with all the meetings and dinners and parties, Steve had more time to spend with Ian than he had before. And that was important to him. A job on top would diminish his time to almost nothing.

“You’re talking to a woman who runs a business while maintaining a gloriously full social life and one who works from home while raising two whirlwind terrors,” Jan said.

Wanda nodded, completely at ease with Jan’s description of her kids. “You want to make it work, we can give you classes if need be.”

Steve chuckled. “Maybe when Ian is older.”

Jan hummed thoughtfully. “What about that foundation you started?”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek. He felt guilt over letting the Arnie Roth Foundation wilt. Some way to honor his friend. “I’d rather not ask for money from Tony right now.”

“You have to find something to do with your time,” Wanda said. “Something that lets you just be you.”

They were right, of course. But Steve still didn’t want to pull himself away from Ian by working a nine to five, not when he didn’t need to.

“Thanks,” he said. “I can’t promise I’ll get to the meeting, but-”

“I’d really like you to,” Jan said, “but if you can’t, I won’t push. But Steve, if you want to get out of that rut, you’re going to have to find something.”

Steve was thankful for his friends. They were good, amazing people. Jan pushed the meeting back half an hour so Steve could attend. It was fun, looking at the ad designs, something different than he normally did. And although he didn’t really want to take up advertising (not his first choice), he decided it wouldn’t hurt to check out his studio again.

\--

Ian liked watching his dad sketch and paint. He would pretend to do the same with his coloring books spread out on the floor around him. He dragged in a blanket so that he didn’t have to lay on the hardwood floor, and he would do his best to color in between the lines. He couldn’t manage it, though. But his dad always wanted to see his work and told him how great it was.

Ian was both embarrassed and pleased at that.

But there was something sad about how fervently his dad worked. It reminded Ian of all those sketches his dad used to do, back when they lived in their old home. If Ian thought hard about it, he could put names to some of those sketches now. There was Tony, of course, and there was Wanda and Janet. Uncle Sam and Uncle Bucky he already knew.

Ian hadn’t seen those sketches in a long time, though, and wasn’t sure where they were.

One day, his dad reading instead of going to the studio, Ian crawled into his lap.

“Do you need something?” his dad asked holding him close.

“Where are your old pictures?”

“What pictures?”

“That you used to draw…”

His dad made a little sound of understanding. “I stuck them away. They didn’t seem… relevant so much.”

“Because you have the real Tony?”

Steve’s sigh ruffled Ian’s hair. “You know, maybe we should go dig those out. They must be here somewhere.”

When they found them, he and his dad spent a long time looking at them, Ian pointing to those he recognized and his dad telling him funny stories. Ian pulled on picture of Tony towards him, fingers tracing the lines.

Tony didn’t hang out with them very much anymore.

\--

His dad was working in the studio again, so Ian ran to get a new coloring book that Jan had given him. On the way back to the studio, he ran into Tony.

“Sorry,” Ian muttered, looking down. He hadn’t seen Tony in a long time it seemed, though he must have been around.

“No, I wasn’t paying attention.” Tony held out his hand. “Where were you off to?”

Ian didn’t take it. He clutched his coloring book to his chest. “Dad’s drawing.”

That made Tony smile. “Good to hear he’s using it.” After a moment, Tony said, “Ian? Are you happy here?”

Ian stared up at Tony. He liked the Tony that had taken them on a picnic, but this Tony had dark circles around his eyes, and he looked tired and sad. Ian didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t want to make Tony more sad.

“If you need to work, you can. Dad and I don’t need you here.”

Tony’s smile slipped, but then it was back in place. “I see,” he said. “Alight, you run along, I’ve… got some things to finish up.”

Ian watched Tony go, shoulders slumped, and steps slow. He felt like he had done something bad, but he didn’t know what.

\--

Steve loved his studio. No matter where he stood, he had a great landscape in front of him from the wall to wall windowed that he throw open if he wanted. If he stood on one side of the room, he could look into the gardens, full of flowers and carefully maintained bushes. If he moved to the other side, he could see Ian’s sandbox, the tire swing that hung from the branch of a tree, and his tricycle, parked at the base of the trunk.

For now, though, he had started going through some of his unfinished pieces. There was a half-painted abstract sitting on his easel. He couldn’t remember what he was going for, but he decided to pick it up again.

To be honest, Steve was better at illustration, and he certainly preferred it. But there was something about painting that forced his mind to focus solely on that.

He dipped his brush into a mixed red, and he painted a long strip across the entire canvas.

As he began to paint a second stripe underneath the first, he heard Tony behind him say, “I remember that.”

Steve didn’t look away from his work. “Can’t remember myself. But I’m turning it into something new, so.”

“Mmm…” Tony came up behind him. Steve glanced his way, just briefly. The sleeves of Tony’s white shirt were rolled up past his elbows, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top, exposing a bit of chest hair.

“You know,” Tony said, pointing to the painting, “I think you were mad at me when you made this. Funny how it reflects that now more than it did.”

“It was unfinished before.” Steve painted a third strip, this one crossing the other two. “Besides, you’re just reading into it what you want to.”

“You’re right.”

Steve hadn’t really expected Tony to agree with him, but he didn’t comment on it.

He heard Tony’s slow intake of breath and braced himself for whatever was to come.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Tony said. “I haven’t been listening to you. To you or Ian, and… I’m sorry.”

Steve put his paint things down slowly on the trolley beside him. He wiped his hands off on a towel and turned to face Tony. “Where did this come from?”

Tony’s smile was difficult to read. “Your very insightful and very harsh son.” Tony looked out the windows. It was evening, and the sun was sinking lower, making everything either glow orange or hide in long shadows.

When Tony looked again at Steve, he looked lost. “I wanted to make this work, but I didn’t know how. I thought I was listening, but like always, I got wrapped up in my own head. If you could forgive me, I’d like to start again.”

“How far do we go back, Tony?”

“Well, my name is Tony Stark, and you look absolutely gorgeous in this light.”

Steve chuckled at the cheesy pick up. “Steve,” he said, holding out a hand. “And I don’t normally go for guys whose casual wear could feed a family for a month.”

Tony raised a hand to his heart. “Ouch. Shot down?”

Steve shrugged a shoulder. “Not if you start listening. Really listening.”

Tony tangled their hands together. Steve still had some paint on them, but Tony didn’t seem to mind. “I will listen. I promise. I’m so sorry, Steve.”

“I’m sorry, too. I don’t always keep a cool head, especially when it comes to Ian.”

“You take care of him the best you can,” Tony said. “That’s better than any father I’ve known.”

\--

Steve didn’t want Tony to let his company go under because of him, but they discussed things, and Tony was able to rearrange his schedule, delegate a little more, and use his time more efficiently so that he could spend more time with Steve and Ian.

He took them to Coney Island one day, and by the end of it, Ian had almost eaten himself sick with cotton candy and had ridden every ride he was big enough for twice.

He also let Steve in. He discussed openly with him his worries and concerns, and Steve was able to point out to a few strategies that would solidify Tony’s hold. He sat in on a few meetings with Bernie Rosenthal, who handled most of the business legal matters for Tony, and Steve was impressed by her work.

It wasn’t going to be easy, Steve could see that, but with a bit of money, Tony could make sure he wasn’t undercut by his limited hold of shares.

For Steve, it was the best they’d been together in a long, long time.

\--

“Forty-five percent,” Tony said, walking into what had become the playroom. “A whopping forty-five percent without-”

Steve couldn’t hear whatever else Tony was going to say, because Ian tripped just then, banging his head into his plastic table, and started screaming. Steve went to Ian and checked his head. “You’re okay,” he said and pressed a kiss to Ian’s head.

Ian rubbed at his head, his crying dying down to sniffles.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, cradling Ian in his arms, “you were saying.”

“You know what, doesn’t matter,” Tony said.

“No, what was it?”

Steve smiled as Ian picked up Redwing and started to “feed” him.

Tony took a spot on the couch. This put him just above Steve, who sat against it on the floor. Tony started playing with Steve’s hair, his fingers running through the strands. Steve leaned back into the touch with a pleased hum.

Ian, recovered from his bump, realized he needed to build a house for Redwing and ran to grab the box of blocks.

“I was thinking,” Tony said, still stroking Steve’s hair, “of maybe taking a night off. Just the two of us. Only for one night of course.”

“Oh?”

“Clint could watch Ian, maybe have someone else over for a sleepover.”

Steve looked at Tony, impressed. “You’ve thought this through.”

Tony pretended offense. “I do run a highly successful business, even if it is having its rocky moments. Thinking is part of the job.”

Steve smirked up at him. “I know.” He pulled Tony in for a kiss. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

They decided that weekend would be best. Saturday rolled around, Kate came over, and Clint assured Steve and Tony that all would be well.

Steve kissed the top of Ian’s head. “I promise I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

Ian nodded.

It was the first time he’d be away from Ian for the night, but Steve knew Ian would have to get used to it eventually. Steve did acknowledge, in ten years, Ian wasn’t going to want _anything_ to do with Steve, but that was a long way off yet.

Tony took him to his penthouse suite. He rarely used the place, except when he needed to stay close to the office, but Steve remembered many a night spent here before. Tony had redecorated some, but it still felt familiar. Steve ran his hand over the couch, the leather making him feel nostalgic.

Tony turned Steve around and wrapped his arms around him, pulling Steve in. He leaned forward into a gentle kiss. “So,” he said softly, “I have reservations out and I also have a little something prepared here. It’s up to you which we do.”

Steve wanted to be alone with Tony tonight. “Let’s stay in,” he said.

Tony smiled. “I was hoping you would say that.”

\--

Ian really liked Clint, and he liked Kate when she wasn’t scaring him (though she wasn’t as scary as America). Although he didn’t like that his dad was going to be gone all night, he liked that Clint and Kate were staying over.

Clint got them into a game of chase in the ballroom until he collapsed in the middle of the floor, panting for breath, and Ian jumped on top of him. Kate took Clint’s head in her hands, shouting, “We won! We won!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint said with a tired grin. He grabbed Ian and lifted him into the air. Ian laughed as he flew in the air. “Okay, but let’s play something quiet for a little while. While I rest my bruises.” Clint winced.

They made their way to the playroom. There was a cabinet on one end that housed the TV. As Tony said, that way it would be protected when Ian played harder.

Clint put in a movie, and he settled on the couch while Ian and Kate took the floor.

When the movie ended, Ian didn’t feel tired yet. He glanced back at Clint and saw that he was snoring.

Kate put a finger to her lips. “Come on,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Let’s play hide and seek,” Kate said with a grin.

Ian took one more glance at Clint and then followed Kate out without hesitation.

\--

“These are the best sandwiches I’ve ever had,” Steve said, as he licked his fingers clean.

“Even those ones we had in Bali?”

Steve pretended to consider that. “Those were four star Michelin sandwiches,” Steve said slowly. “But these are four star Tony sandwiches, so there’s really no contest.”

Tony leaned over and let his hand rest on Steve’s chest. “Nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Steve smirked. “Never said you came out on top.”

Tony shook his head, but he still grinned. Steve pushed the plates away; they were sitting on the floor, looking out at the city lights. He scooted close enough to Tony that he could push Tony down and lay on top of him.

Tony reached up and brushed back a lock of Steve’s hair. “Remember all those vacations?”

Of course Steve did. “So young. So stupid.”

Tony shrugged. “I’ll grant you the jellyfish thing was stupid, but…”

Steve started laughing. “Don’t remind me,” he said, still chuckling. “Sometimes I can still imagine the feel of the burns.”

“God, I love you so much,” Tony said. “Thank you. For coming back.”

Steve bent forward to capture Tony’s lips. He pressed their foreheads together and stared into Tony’s eyes. His heart hurt, because he loved Tony, too. But there was so much pain still, and every day was a process to work through that.

“Love you,” he said at last. “Damn it, Tony.” He let himself down slowly, so that he and Tony were pressed together. Tony’s arms came and wrapped around him.

Tony murmured again. “I love you, Steve.”

\--

They hid all over the house. Ian saw rooms he hadn’t known existed. They worked their way back toward the bedrooms, and Ian dashed into one door.

He realized, looking around, that it had to be Tony’s room. He looked at the dressers and the closet doors. The bed was huge, bigger than any Ian had seen. On the bedside table, there was a framed photograph. It was of Ian’s dad and Tony, smiling with their arms wrapped around one another, sitting on the beach.

Ian had never seen his dad go swimming before, and they had never visited a beach.

“Ian?”

Kate peeked into the room. When she spotted him, she said, “You’re supposed to hide, dummy!”

Ian put down the picture. “I’m done playing,” he said flatly and continued to explore the room. It wasn’t right, exactly, he knew that. But Tony was kissing his dad a lot of the time, and Ian deserved to know more about him.

Okay, that wasn’t exactly true, either. Ian was mostly worried. He was worried his dad might leave him forever if Tony took too much of his attention. After all, hadn’t his dad left Tony for Ian?

Kate glanced around, looking bored. “Bet it’s just like my dad’s,” she said. She pointed to a dresser that only went up the wall halfway. “That has ties and underwear and socks and watches.” She pointed to the closet. “And that has suits and pants and golf clothes.” She made golf clothes sound like something disgusting, which only made Ian more curious.

But whatever golf clothes were, they didn’t stick out among all of Tony’s things. Just dress shirts and coats and pants, all hung neatly and pressed. There were countless shoes along the bottom, as well as stacked in rows on one side, and the top was lined with hats. It looked like a small store.

He turned to see Kate crawling under the bed.

“What are you doing?”

Her voice was muffled when she replied. “All the best stuff is under the bed, cause it’s too hard to move.”

Ian laid down on his belly and looked in. It was too dark to see anything. Kate’s legs stuck out, and he heard her arms moving around. He scooted himself forward, until he was almost entirely under.

“Help me look,” Kate said, right in Ian’s ear. He cautiously reached out his arms (monsters lived under beds, after all, even he knew that,) but he just felt carpet. He moved further in. Then, his hand collided with something.

“There!” Kate said. She reached out with him, and together they dragged the thing out.

It turned out to be a large, heavy cardboard box. It was flat enough to fit underneath the bed, but it was wide. This was definitely wrong. This was a secret, whatever it was. But Kate rubbed her hands and started pulling at one of the top flaps. They were folded over one another, and it was a bit of a struggle, but they managed to get it open.

Inside, there were lots of papers. It wasn’t just that. There were little things, too, like a clear box with some sunglasses in it, and there was a frisbee that was painted red, white, and blue. Kate pulled out one of the papers on top, and Ian recognized the little signature in the corner.

“That’s my dad’s,” he said, taking the picture from Kate. It was a drawing of Tony, and he was sleeping. It looked pretty good; his dad was really good at drawing.

“Isn’t that your dad and Mr. Stark?” Kate said, pointing to a picture that was underneath the drawing. Ian took it out. It was flimsy, and he realized it was torn out from a magazine. The picture filled up most of the page, and there was a circle near the bottom with some writing on it.

Tony’s arm was around his dad, and his dad was laughing at something that Tony said. They were both wearing suits, Tony a black one and Steve’s dark blue. They wore sunglasses, even though it was obviously night.

They either hadn’t noticed the person taking the picture, or they didn’t care.

He pointed at the circle. “What does this say?”

Kate, being a couple years older, had already started learning to read. She took the page and stared at it for a moment. Then, slowly, she said, “Tony Stark and boyfriend Steve Rogers Partying After Musical Premiere.” She looked at Ian. “The word premiere means to start. My sister told me that, because she is going to ‘premiere’ in society in a two weeks.”

Ian looked at the picture again. Although they looked happy, it wasn’t any kind of party he was familiar with. He put the picture aside and continued through the box.

There were lots of other pictures that were torn from magazines. There were also photos, countless photos, and they were all of either Steve or Tony or both together. The magazine pictures usually consisted of Steve and Tony together, arms around one another or holding hands, almost always wearing sunglasses, and either at parties or airports or just on the street.

And to make it all the more strange, his dad looked so young. Still old, because all adults were old, but he looked less old. He didn’t have the start of wrinkles forming around his eyes and mouth. It was like he was a different person.

In nearly all of them, he was grinning, and in at least half, he had a cigarette dangling from his fingers. There was one picture from a magazine that was of Tony and Ian’s dad almost kissing, except there was a cloud of smoke between their mouths.

About halfway through the box, they ran into a stack of papers that were different from the rest. Here were more articles from papers, although there were still magazine excerpts as well. What was most striking was the large photo of a burning building. It looked like some kind of factory, and underneath it was a large headline.

Kate read it out for him. “Stark Factory Destroyed. One Dead.”

This was something really bad.

\--

Steve moaned under Tony’s touch. Tony’s fingers skittered over his skin, light, brief touches against his throat and sternum. He shuddered as Tony pressed his lips against his stomach.

“Tony,” Steve said, all breath and want. He pushed himself up to kiss Tony, deeply, hand tangled in his hair. “Tony, please.”

When he orgasmed, he arched against Tony while also pulling Tony toward him. They ended up in a tangle of limbs on the floor, catching their breaths between soft, lazy kisses.

There was a time when this was their life, where they would get lost in the feel of one another, get lost in the sex and love, day and night. Steve pressed his forehead to Tony’s, and Tony gave him a dorky grin. It flooded through Steve, leaving him warm and happy.

“Good idea?” Tony said.

“Mm, excellent idea,” Steve said. He kissed Tony again, a lingering gentle kiss. When they broke apart, Steve stroked a thumb down Tony’s face, over his cheek and down into his beard. Although he was still riding his post-orgasmic haze, he was growing melancholy. Times like this made him want to believe that all they needed was love. It wasn’t true, of course, but he wanted to believe.

And now, Steve hoped beyond hope that they had more than love. Tony had once been his everything, and while they could never reclaim that, he was ready for Tony to be a big part of his life, completely this time.

“Steve?” Tony looked at Steve with a question in his eyes, wanting to know where his mind had drifted. Steve smiled, slow.

“You’re beautiful, Tony.”

It wasn’t often that Tony blushed, but there was a faint hint of color in his cheeks. He raised an eyebrow, eyes gleaming. “Stealing my moves, Rogers?”

Steve feigned disinterest. He rolled away and laced his hands behind his head. “You used them all up years ago. Haven’t seen anything new yet.”

Tony growled, low in his throat. “You a betting man?”

Steve smirked at him. “Maybe.”

Tony pulled himself up to loom over Steve again. “Then let’s have ourselves a bet.”

\--

It took a long time for Ian and Kate to sort through the stack, because it was almost all words and Kate had to read through them. A lot of them said the same kind of thing.

“Ar… arson?” Kate said, reading one. She frowned, trying to figure out the word. “‘Police are unsure if the fire was accidental or arson.’ Doesn’t say anything else.” She picked up another article and read it slowly, mouthing out some words. “The man who died was… Morley Erwin. Sister was injured… Then it just talks about them. This says… ‘Anthony Stark and his cousin Morgan Stark’ were there… ‘touring the facilities.’ They mean the factory. They were okay, though, they didn’t get hurt. Just the Morley guy and his sister.”

Ian looked at the picture of the burning factory again. He set it aside carefully, feeling uneasy.

At the bottom of the stack were several more articles, but these were mostly magazines again. This time, while still photos of his dad, he didn’t look happy in them, and most images were of him and Tony separate.

Kate read one headline for him. “Stark and Boyfriend Split.”

Ian put the article down. “We should put this away.”

Kate looked like she wanted to continue, but she finally helped Ian put everything back in and push the box underneath the bed. They couldn’t close it up right, but they did manage to get it deep under.

They returned to the playroom and found Clint still asleep on the couch. Ian crawled up next to him, laying his head against Clint’s chest, and closed his eyes.

He wished his dad was home.

\--

Steve woke up in the middle of the night. He reached out an arm, but Tony wasn’t in bed. Funny, Steve thought, how this was going to be their first time they’d slept in the same bed in years, and Tony wasn’t here to enjoy it.

He slipped out, feeling a bit of an ache in his knees and backside. The round in the shower might have been just a bit too much for him. Getting old, Rogers, he thought.

He pulled on pajama pants before he went into the living room. Tony stood at the window, dressed in just his robe and holding a glass of water.

“So you like the city better than me, is that it?” Steve said as he approached.

Tony quirked an eyebrow at him, a smirk playing at his lips. He gave Steve an appreciative once over. “Used to be you wouldn’t bother with clothes at all, Steve.”

“Some things men our age shouldn’t do.”

Tony snorted at this. “Since when was mid-thirties old?”

“We used to think it was old.” Steve stood beside Tony, looking out at the lights that still shone, despite the late hour. It was colder by the window than the rest of the apartment, and little goosebumps started to form along his arms.

“Used to think a lot of things,” Tony said. “Times change.”

Steve murmured agreement.

Tony glanced at him again and must have noticed he was cold, because he said, “If you’re going to wear clothing, at least put on something warm.”

“Or,” Steve said, “we could go back to bed.”

Tony shook his head, but he was grinning. “Alright. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He leaned in to kiss Steve, stroking the back of his head. Steve returned to the bedroom and slipped under the covers. A moment later, Tony joined him.

Just as Steve was about to fall asleep, Tony asked, “Ian’s birthday is the same as yours. What in the world do you get a five year old boy?”

Steve grinned against his pillow, keeping his eyes shut. “He’s already got a room full of toys, so it should be a bit more thoughtful.”

“Mmm... “

“Go to sleep, Tony. We can talk presents in the morning.”

Tony shifted so that he could spoon Steve. He pressed a quick kiss to Steve’s neck. “Alright, then.”

Again, Steve felt sleep approaching when Tony woke him up with the question, “But what to get you?”

“Tony. Sleep. Please.”

Tony laughed softly, and Steve fell asleep feeling warm and happy.

\--

When they arrived back at the mansion, Ian was waiting anxiously for them. He flung himself into Steve’s arms, and while Steve was happy for the affection, he was a little concerned. “Did everything go alright?” he asked Clint.

“Oh, fine,” Clint said with a smile. “Had a pretty quiet night, the three of us.”

Kate, who was all packed up and ready to go for when her chauffeur came, coughed.

Later that day, when it was just Steve and Ian, Steve asked him what was bothering him. Ian just shook his head and said it was nothing.

“Is it because I was gone?” Ian hesitated a moment, and then he nodded his head. Steve suppressed a sigh. “Hey, I’m back, okay? Before you know it, you won’t even want to spend time with your old man.”

“That’s not true!” Ian insisted. Steve held back his laughter.

“You’ll just want to hang out with your friends, go to the movies, hang out at the mall… Won’t think about me at all.” He wiped a pretend tear away.

“No! I will!” Ian jumped up and pushed at Steve. “I’ll miss you tons! All the time!”

Steve started a tickle war that ended up with both of them heaving on the floor of the playroom. It definitely cheered Ian up, but Steve didn’t want Ian to think he was ever going to abandon him again.

It was then that he got an idea for a gift for Ian that would be perfect, provided Tony didn’t mind.

Tony, it turned out, thought it was a great idea.

\--

When Ian woke up on July 4th, he practically bounded out of bed. “Dad! Dad!” He shook Steve awake. “Get up, get up!”

His dad rubbed at his eyes before yawning loudly. “What is it?”

“It’s our birthday!”

His dad smiled at him, holding out his arms. “Five years old, boy, how the time flies.” Ian snuggled into his arms, humming happily. “Happy birthday, Ian.”

“Happy birthday, daddy.”

Because it was Ian’s birthday, he got to eat whatever he wanted. He picked out Lucky Charms for breakfast, and asked Jarvis if there was going to be cake later.

“Oh, I’m sure there will,” Jarvis said, “but I believe you father has a present for you.”

Ian launched himself at his dad at that. “What did you get me?”

“You’ve got to get dressed first. We need to go pick it up.”

Ian could barely contain his excitement as he was strapped into the car seat. His dad had made him take a bath, which he had wanted to speed through. It was closer to lunch than breakfast by then.

They arrived at a two story brownstone. Steve held Ian’s hand tightly as they headed up the steps. They rang the doorbell, and after a moment, a man answered the door. He stared at them for a long moment, looking puzzled.

“Is Clint in?”

The man’s mouth dropped in a little oh. “Yeah, just a sec.” He turned around and shouted, “Clint! Hey, Clint! Wait just a minute.” The man retreated into the house. There was some more yelling and a bang, and then Clint appeared, hair ruffled and pulling on a shirt.

“Sorry!” he said, “Over slept. Happy birthday, Ian! You’re dad’s present is this way.”

Ian followed closely at Clint’s heels. They went into the kitchen and there, on the floor, was a puppy. It had beige fur and two dark eyes that looked curiously around the kitchen. It looked up when Ian and Clint came in and immediately jumped up, wagging its tail.

Ian’s mouth dropped open. He couldn’t believe it.

“For me?” he said, turning his head toward Clint but keeping his eyes trained on the puppy. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” his dad said, ruffling his hair.

“Adopted a stray dog awhile back. Turned out she was pregnant, and she had puppies,” Clint said. “Your dad told me to keep one aside for you.”

“But we’re getting ours fixed.”

Clint crouched beside Ian. “So, what do you think? You like her?”

Ian nodded vigorously. “What’s her name?”

“What do you want to name her?”

The puppy ran up to Ian and started sniffing his fingers. She licked at his hands and barked, tail wagging excitedly. Ian sank to his knees and giggled as she crawled over him, licking at his face.

“Jewel,” he said, because her eyes shone. “She’s Jewel.”

Ian was happy that Clint came with them as they headed back home. Instead of going into the house, however, his dad lead them all through to the backyard.

Ian held Jewel closer to his chest as he saw the backyard decorated in streamers and balloons. Tony stepped forward, gesturing to the backyard and all the people there. “Surprise,” he said.

Ian glanced once at his dad, who nodded once as he raised an arm for Tony to slide up next to him. Ian put Jewel on the ground, and they ran forward. All his friends were there, Billy and Tommy, Cassie, Kate, Eli, and America. There were other kids, too, ones he didn’t know, but they all played together.

Adults came up and wished him a happy birthday. Uncle Bucky and Uncle Sam were both there, and Ian was so excited. There was a huge cake, bigger than he had ever seen, and Jarvis let him sneak a taste.

By the end of the day, while watching the fireworks from the roof of the mansion, Ian was exhausted. He curled up around Jewel, stroking her fur gently. This was the best birthday ever.

\--

Steve wrapped his arms around Tony as he watched Ian sleep. “Today was great,” Steve said against the side of Tony’s head. “Thank you.”

“Mmm.” Tony turned his head to capture his lips. “Just wait until you get your personal present from me…”

Steve rose an eyebrow. “Can’t wait.”

\--

It was the week after his birthday, and all Ian wanted to do was play with Jewel. Jewel didn’t know any tricks, but he would teach her. He listened carefully as his dad told him all about taking care of her. Ian was going to be the best dad ever, just like his dad was.

He was playing fetch with her one afternoon. His dad was in his studio with the doors open, working. Ian tossed the stick near the corner of the house, and Jewel ran after it.

“Jewel!” Ian called out. “Come on!”

But Jewel didn’t come back. She didn’t always. Ian had to run after her.

He turned the corner of the house and ran straight into a solid body. Before he could scream, everything turned black.


	8. Chapter 8

Everything was just white noise. Tony calling the police, Jarvis pushing coffee into Steve’s hands, people coming over - so many people, officers and friends. Steve was aware of Sam kneeling in front of him at one point, saying something, and Steve thought he responded. He must have, because Sam went away again. And then Tony was there, saying something, saying words, but Steve didn’t understand, didn’t comprehend.

All he could think of was his son.

There was a shout of, “Don’t-!” and then something small rammed into his legs. It took a moment for Steve to focus, but there, by his feet, huddled and scared, was Jewel.

She whined, pityingly, and pushed herself behind Steve’s legs. He reached down and picked her up. She let him, and in his lap, she pressed herself tightly against him, looking around nervously at the others.

He stroked her hair. “It’s okay, girl,” Steve said. “No one here is going to hurt you.”

“Steve?”

He looked over to see Tony standing there, hand stretched out like he meant to touch Steve, but unsure if the gesture would be welcome. Steve held out his own hand and squeezed Tony’s.

He looked around then, and noticed that the room was crowded. In one corner was Det. Sharon Carter speaking with Beth and Ling. He was glad to see Sharon; they attended the same school when they were just children. She was older now, as they all were, and whatever Beth and Ling were saying made her frown tightly, accentuating what were otherwise only the start of wrinkles. But when she glanced Steve’s way, her expression softened.

Jarvis was serving coffee to a few of the officers, who were in the process of talking to some of the staff. One officer was trying to get Tony’s attention, but Tony simply ignored him, his attention on Steve instead.

Sam was there, speaking on the phone to someone. Steve was relieved to see him.

He looked at Tony then, and he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. He needed to talk with him, tell him everything. Ian’s life could depend on it.

“I need to speak with you,” Steve said, voice coming out raspy. “You and Sam.”

“Steve,” Tony said, sitting down at last, “I promise you we’ll find him.”

Steve swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Have we heard anything?”

Tony cast his eyes down.

Jewel pressed her body into Steve again. Even after only a week, it seemed she had grown so much. Steve bent forward to press his lips against her head. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting off the sting behind them that preluded tears.

“Tony, let’s talk.” He caught Sharon making movements toward him, so he stood, supporting Jewel in one arm, and guiding Tony by the elbow with the other. He nodded at Sam, and Sam followed, finishing up his call.

When an officer tried to stop them, Steve glared and said, “All I want is a few moments’ peace in the next room.”

The officer seemed to think better of her protest and let Steve, Tony, and Sam through.

“What’s this about, Steve?” Tony asked, once they were alone. They were in the TV room, which was smaller than the parlor they had left the authorities in. Steve sat in one of the arm chairs, rather than a couch, to prevent Tony from sitting next to him. Tony took a seat not far, though, and Sam leaned against the back of the smaller couch, arms crossed.

Steve took a deep breath before speaking. “Ian isn’t my biological son.” He watched Tony carefully, watched how Tony’s eyebrows raised in question. “I don’t exactly have him legally either.”

“Steve- what? Why?”

“Because I couldn’t see him put into the system.” Steve stroked Jewel’s head. She looked up at him and nudged his hand. “Worse, I couldn’t see him return to his biological father.”

Tony kept quiet as Steve told the story. Sam interjected when appropriate, when he knew part of it better than Steve did.

Almost a year after their break-up, Steve found Ian in a trash can. At first, he thought the baby had been simply abandoned. He took the baby to urgent care because of a fever; they had assumed he was his son, and Steve had gone along with it. But there was a picture, a photo of the baby and an older girl. On the back, in capital letters, were the words, “Take care of my brother.”

“Abuse, I thought,” Steve said, “and she had possibly saved her brother’s life. I took him to Sam immediately after that.”

Sam shrugged a shoulder. “The picture was the key. The little girl had a symbol on her dress. One for-”

“Arnim Zola’s gang,” Steve finished.

Tony sucked in a breath. “The arms dealer?”

“Alleged,” Steve said, tone bitter. “The courts can’t hold anything against him.”

“Worse,” Sam continued, and Steve was grateful he didn’t have to say it, “there are rumors he’s dealing in people, too.”

“That’s why he never looked for him, not through legal channels,” Steve said. “Figure that, anyway. Neither child nor mother officially existed.”

Tony was horrified at the implication, mouth slack, eyes wide. Steve looked away.

He skipped over the fights and harsh arguments he and Sam had, both afraid for the baby, Sam also afraid for Steve. During that time, Steve took care of the baby, started calling him Ian after his grandfather. And a baby in his apartment was something he couldn’t keep from Bucky for long.

“But he had connections,” Steve said. “Namely Natasha.”

She knew a forger; it was simple for him to make Ian’s birth certificate. But they needed a mother, someone who could validate Steve’s story that he had chosen to raise their child on their own. Natasha volunteered.

“Natalia Romanova,” Tony said, with a shake of his head, “an aging prima donna, the supposed mystery mother, like anyone would believe that.”

“People would believe it a stage name,” Steve said. “And she was… gone during the period of Ian’s supposed birth. It would work well enough.”

He hadn’t asked where she was; she wouldn’t have told him if he had. But with connections like Boris, her forger, Steve didn’t want to ask. It didn’t matter, either way. When she heard Zola was involved with this, she hadn’t hesitated in helping.

Once the papers were in order, Steve moved to that little out-of-the-way apartment, and that was that.

“Couldn’t try to find the sister,” Sam finished, with a shake of his head. “Zola’s people were on the look out.”

Sam didn’t mention his friend getting beat up when they reached out to find information, but that wasn’t anything Tony needed to know about.

Tony looked solemnly at his clasped hands. If he threw Steve and Ian out after this, it didn’t matter. Only getting Ian back did.

“So money or Zola is the question,” Tony said slowly. “Until we hear word… No telling, I suppose.”

The chance that Zola had recognized Ian from one of the paparazzi photos was unlikely. However, there was enough of a chance that Tony needed to know the whole truth.

They also needed his support if the police chose to look into Ian’s birth because of the kidnapping.

Tony met Steve’s eye. “I’m with you, Steve. No matter what, I’m here for you.”

Tony stood and strode over to Steve. He leaned down and kissed him gently, before resting his forehead against Steve’s. “We’ll find him, Steve. No matter what.”

Steve shut his eyes and reached out his hand for Tony’s. He held on tightly.

\--

Everything was dark. Ian didn’t know where he was. He crouched in the corner, squinting beyond into the room, which was small, but seemed to grow in size the more aware Ian became. There were men there, men who wore masks and who talked gruffly with one another.

Ian was too terrified to even cry.

He curled up to be as small as he could, but they all knew he was right there.

Ian shut his eyes and wished as hard he could to be home with Steve and Jewel and Tony.

\--

Steve couldn’t stand the waiting. It had been five hours since Ian had been snatched, and there still wasn’t a single word. “Shouldn’t they have rung by now?” The fear that it was Zola - that there would be no ransom - settled low in his gut. He paced to stave off the anxiety, but it didn’t help.

“We’ve got every precinct aware of the issue, we’ve got an Amber alert out, this kid gets seen in the streets, we’ll find him,” Sharon said. But her assurances were moot.

The reporters and paparazzi could only be held off for so long. Someone eventually would realize that the search for Ian Rogers was connected to Tony, and they would be hounded.

Steve couldn’t face that.

“There has to be something we can do,” he said, slamming his hands down on the back of a chair. The chair creaked under his grip, and he felt guilty when Jewel whined.

Tony’s hand rested on his shoulder. It was a comforting presence, and Steve took a deep breath. “There has to be something,” he said again, this time a little calmer, but still feeling as desperate as before.

Sharon bit her lip briefly before speaking. “Look, we’re doing all we can. But we’re also tied by some red tape. If - and you didn’t hear this from me - you want some outside help-”

Tony cut in. “We have a crack security team, Detective, who are currently doing their own investigation.”

“One that didn’t stop this from happening.”

Steve raised his hand before Tony could say anything else. “What were you thinking?”

Sharon shrugged. “My sister, Peggy. You remember her?”

Steve nodded.

“She and her husband are PIs and also an outside set of eyes. Have them team up with your people, you might get somewhere faster.”

“Thank you, Sharon,” Steve said, heartfelt.

Peggy and Gabe Jones arrived quickly, and they met with Beth and Ling to go over the security footage. Steve stood back, watching them work. Peggy was older, as they all were, with gray forming at her temples, and wrinkles lining her face.

But what struck him, as he watched her and Gabe interact, was that she was happy. She had lived her life how she wanted, how she had told Sharon, Steve, and Arnie to do once upon a time.

But Steve wasn’t sure he had listened.

The footage didn’t turn up anything new. There was a brief outage during the time that Ian was kidnapped, so they had nothing.

\--

Gabe, Peggy, Beth, and Ling took over a room, shoving all the furniture to the side and pinning up a map of New York City. “They won’t take him out of the city,” Beth said. “Too easy to trip up that way. There’s more people in New York, easier to get lost in the crowd.”

The first step, all four of them agreed, was finding who was the kidnappers’ in. There was no way they could have gotten through security without someone helping them.

Scott Lang was suspect number one.

“It’s not him,” Steve said, certain about that. He’d seen the way Scott looked at his daughter. He had been in Scott’s place. “He’s not going to jeopardize all that, not again.”

Beth crossed her arms, looking sour. “So you know about his criminal record.”

“I do. Tony did when he hired him. And why use someone so conspicuous?”

They stared down one another. Steve wouldn’t back down. He knew it wasn’t Scott. It wasn’t Tony. It wasn’t Jarvis. There were others he knew wouldn’t do it either. But Beth insisted everyone be interviewed.

“If you don’t have any suspects,” she said, “we’re going to have to go through everyone, one by one. First, do either of you have anyone who would hold a grudge?”

Beth didn’t know about Ian’s history, and Steve wanted to keep it that way. The fewer who knew, the better. Either way, he couldn’t think of anyone who would have ties to Zola.

“If you don’t tell me, I’m going to look into it myself.”

Tony placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You have access to my history, Beth. If you find something, let me know. Talk to Pepper, she can help you with anything you need.”

Tony led Steve out and forced him to take a seat in the kitchen. He made up a pot of tea and waited for Steve to drink the first cup. Steve downed it, even though it was scalding. Tony poured him another one, and Steve sipped at this one.

“We’ll find him,” Tony said. It came out as little more than a whisper. “We’ll find him, Steve, I won’t let this rest.”

“It’s been almost a day, Tony.” Steve shook his head. “The chances are decreasing by the second.”

“Steve. You can’t afford to think like that.” Tony took Steve’s head in his hands and forced him to meet his eyes. “Lean on me, okay? Lean and hope.”

He pulled Steve’s head to his chest, and Steve cried. He wished he could do more. He wished he could look himself, put on a costume like Ian’s silly little Nomad toy, and find him. When he had been court martialed, when Tony had been at his worst right before Steve left, he had felt helpless then. This was so much worse.

Tony said Steve needed to get some sleep, but all he could do was stare at the ceiling. Tony laid down with him, but he didn’t hear Tony fall asleep at all.

It was almost one in the morning when he decided to just get up again. He hadn’t slept one moment.

“Some rest,” Tony said. It was clear he hadn’t slept either.

“I can’t, Tony. I need to.. do something. Anything.”

Tony caught his hand. “Come with me.”

They ended up sparring. Steve was far better than Tony, but Tony was no slouch. He never had been. Steve was rougher than he should have been, but Tony didn’t say a word. Steve slammed him to the floor, breathing heavily. He pinned him and then just froze.

Tony didn’t try to force him off. He just reached up and cupped Steve’s neck, a grounding presence.

“I’ve missed you,” Steve said, voice quiet. He felt the need to get it all out, right now. “Every day.”

“Me, too,” Tony said. “Well, once I got sober enough to think. I’m sorry. For ruining everything.”

“Wasn’t just you.”

Tony gave him a half-smirk. “Mostly me.”

Steve closed his eyes. “That’s just it, Tony. We both fucked it up last time. And when this is all over,” when they found Ian, because they had to, Steve couldn’t accept any other outcome, “we start again. This time as a family. Without secrets.”

Tony’s looked distressed. He glanced away. “There’s something I need to tell you, Steve.”

Steve sat up, letting Tony slip out from under him. They sat together in the middle of the ring, and Tony rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I told you I… didn’t remember anything from that night.” Steve didn’t need to ask which night. _The night_ was only one night: the factory fire.

There was a terrible sense of deja vu.

“I was hammered,” Tony said. “You know that. Every night. Every morning. And Morgan wanted more money. He wasted everything I ever gave him before, and I was so angry. Felt so used.” Tony hid his face in his open palms, toward the floor. “He started it. I watched him, and I didn’t do a thing. I egged him on, bet he wouldn’t go through with it. But he did, and I was too trashed to respond. I thought it funny.” Tony’s voice cracked. “I laughed.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Tony. Slowly, he felt Tony relax and returned the hug.

Tony had lied about that night. But Steve wasn’t angry. He was angry at the time. He thought Tony only cared about himself. About his riches. Tony was used to a certain kind of lifestyle, one that Steve got swept up in. However, with Tony’s alcoholism, with his rampant insistence that nothing was wrong, Steve couldn’t handle it.

Tony was too drunk to comment on the fire at the time.

From there, it was a steady deterioration until Steve found nothing worth staying for. And he’d left. But now he felt a small piece of guilt take place, not over his leaving, but at his, if inadvertant, part in the disaster.

“I’m sorry I insisted you invite him,” Steve said.

Tony shook his head against Steve’s shoulder. “Family is important to you, Steve. You couldn’t have known.”

 _You could have told me._ But Steve didn’t say those words, because they were petty. They were mean. Tony was telling him now, and that’s what mattered.

Something in Tony seemed to snap. “I’m getting bought out,” he said. “With my new transistor I’m working on, that could raise our stock, but… I’m getting bought out. And if that happens, I can’t take care of you, Steve. You or Ian.”

Steve shook his head. “Tony, you don’t need to. I - we - don’t need this kind of lifestyle.”

Steve knew he felt pressured to give the same to Steve, to Ian. And if it was only that, then Steve would say let the company go under. But he also knew, now, that Tony cared for the company and the people he employed. That he had cared back then when he was sober enough to think, and that he cared so strongly now. It was one of the main reasons Steve loved him as much as he did.

“We’ll figure something out,” he said, taking Tony's hand and holding it. “But first…”

“Ian,” Tony said.

Tony leaned forward and embraced Steve. In that hug was years of promises, ones kept and broken, and of ones they still had to make. Steve clung tightly, breathing in Tony’s scent and knowing that they, as a family, could move on. As helpless as they both felt, as powerless as they felt, they could move on.

If only they knew where to find their boy.

There was a cough, and Steve saw Beth at the doorway. She wasted no time in giving them the news. “We found our mole.”

\--

“Cly?” Tony said, with a shake of his head. “Why?”

But he knew. Both he and Steve knew. It was her brother who had died in the factory fire. Steve felt at once relieved that it wasn’t Zola as well as angry that Cly, whom Tony had trusted, had let them take his son, as well as pity for the grief and anger she had to have held on to all these years.

After Tony’s confession, Steve read guilt in the way Tony held himself. But there was also rage, too.

“She’s flown the coop, though,” Peggy said. “Sharon’s got an APB out on her, but nothing’s come of it yet.”

Tony, sitting beside Steve, clenched his hands together and bent forward. “Shit,” he said. “I’m sorry, Steve. This is my fault. If I-”

“What’s done is done,” Steve said. He thought they had been through this. “You can’t change the past, but you can sure as hell stay here with me in the now. I need you.” His voice cracked, revealing more desperation than he wanted to show.

They still hadn’t heard anything about a ransom. And if this was a revenge plot, Steve slowly realized, Ian might not even be alive.

No. He couldn’t think like that. He refused to think like that.

One of Tony’s arms came around his shoulder, and Steve clasped his free hand, holding him tightly.

“Morgan,” Tony said at last, looking at Beth and Peggy, “is he in on it?”

Peggy shook her head. “As far as we can tell, he’s still in Monte Carlo.”

Tony had once said Morgan had gone to Monte Carlo to recouperate and decided to stay. Now, Steve understood it for what it was. He could see Tony making threats. He could see Tony giving him enough money and making Morgan promise he would never come back. He could see Tony wishing he could do the same at the bottom of a bottle.

So they had their insider, but what good would that do if they couldn’t track her down?

“The police will search her apartment, of course,” Peggy continued, “see if there’s any money transaction to get anyone else involved.”

“That still doesn’t tell us where Ian is,” Steve said.

“No,” Tony agreed. “But it’s a start.”

\--

“Here.”

Ian didn’t look up at the voice. He pulled himself into a tighter ball instead.

“Here,” the voice said again, more insistent. “You have to eat.”

He peeked over his arm, just a little, to see a girl there. She was older, at least more than ten, with long hair that spilled from a ponytail down her back. She wore dark jeans and a black, short jacket, and she was just a fraction away from outright scowling at Ian.

But she held out a plate of food. It was some chicken nuggets sitting atop a pile of fries. Ian could smell them now. He didn’t often get fried food. The smell made him realize just how hungry he was.

He took the plate and tentatively ate a fry. It was so good, and he promptly began devouring the whole plate. When he was almost done, and there were a handful of fries and two nuggets left, he realized that the girl was still there, watching him. He looked down at the plate and then held it out. “Did you want some?”

The girl looked surprised for a brief moment, but she shook her head. The smallest smile appeared on her lips. “You finish that up, and then I’ll take you to the bathroom, okay?”

Ian nodded. “Thank you,” he said around another fry.

He got a glimpse of a long hall as she ushered him from that one room to another just opposite. He made sure to wash up after he was done, just like his dad had taught him. But he didn’t want to go back to that room. He wanted to go home.

“You will,” the girl said, squatting down to his height, “you just have to be good and patient, okay? Then you’ll go home, and this will just be like a bad dream.”

Ian said, “Do you get to go home?”

The girl’s dark smirk wasn’t kind. “I am home.”


	9. Chapter 9

They couldn’t keep the story under wraps, and the news broke, with numerous websites reporting the story, though no one knew the source. They still hadn’t heard from the kidnappers, and new officers came to relieve the ones already there. Sharon stayed, though, as did Peggy and Gabe, and Jarvis made sure that everyone had what they needed, whether it was coffee or a bed.

Steve didn’t bother trying to sleep. He knew he couldn’t even if he tried. He sat in his studio, staring at a blank canvas, and by the morning, when Tony came in with coffee and pancakes that Steve didn’t want, he couldn’t take his eyes off the sketch of Ian he’d drawn. It was Ian about about two years old; he was napping, eyes closed, his toy hawk clutched to his chest.

Steve didn’t have any tears left.

“You do have such talent,” Tony said, speaking softly. He didn’t push the food onto Steve, instead setting them down on the floor next to where he sat, crosslegged. Tony joined Steve on the floor, wrapping his arms around him.

There was something familiar about this position, something that reminded Steve of other early mornings and smokey kisses.

“When Sam first gave him that thing, I asked if he was trying to win my son away from me.”

“And what did he say?”

“Damn right he was.”

Tony laughed, nothing more than a gentle chuckle. Steve placed his hand over where Tony’s were clasped at his chest, thumb running along the back.

They sat in silence for several long moments, before Tony spoke again. “Janet called. Asked if she should come over.”

“She’s probably been on the phone with everyone, knowing her.”

Tony nodded. “Well, you know, being the self-appointed ambassador of all your friends. Well, many of them, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Steve said at last. “She can come.”

Steve ate, because it was necessary, and he showered only with the help of Tony. Tony was a comforting presence, and Tony’s gentle touch as he helped Steve wash, though innocent, was something Steve desperately needed.

Jan, when she arrived, Rachel in tow, wrapped her arms around Steve. She had to reach up onto her toes, and Steve bent over to an uncomfortable degree, but he clung to her tightly for several long moments.

She rubbed circles over his back and said, “Everyone’s thinking of you. Wanda sends her love. Luke and Jessica, even the former Mayor Dunphy called me, though I didn’t know you were acquainted. Nice one there, by the way.”

Steve smiled at that. “Thank you,” he said, unable to come up with anything more.

Jan kissed his cheek.

Although Steve tried to play host, he was immensely grateful when Tony and Jarvis took over, making sure that Jan and Rachel were each set up with something to drink, and a plate of fresh donuts appeared.

Steve ate one out of politeness, as the donut itself just ended up sitting heavily in his stomach.

He asked Jan about her business, and she spoke cheerfully, if a little more reserved about it. He was grateful for her being her, for the distraction as they waited.

They sat in the parlor next door to the one occupied by the authorities. There was a door that went between the two, so that if anything should arise, Steve was already there. He could hear the muffled movements and people talking. Peggy, Gabe, Sam, Sharon… They were all in there, all trying to find Ian, and Steve wished he could do more.

Jan rested a delicate hand on his arm. Steve stared at it, not really registering it, but noting how pretty her unadorned hands were. They didn’t seem real, and he ended up staring at one knuckle. “Steve?”

He looked up in surprise. “Sorry,” he said. “Just not… all here.”

Rachel, sitting across from them, said, “Wouldn’t expect you to be.”

Tony wasn’t there at the moment; he was speaking on the phone with their lawyers, both Ms. Walters and Ms. Rosenthal, and he had said there were some other things he had to take care of.

Steve felt himself glancing around for Tony more often than he should have.

It was getting on towards ten in the morning, when there was a commotion in the foyer. Jarvis started shouting, and there was a mass movement downstairs, with Steve at the lead.

In the foyer, Jarvis stood with his hand on the shoulder of a teenage boy. There were two officers there as well, flanking them. The boy looked to be about fifteen or sixteen, with his hair sticking up, cheeks red, and the impression he was about to be ill. He held in his hands an envelope. Steve’s breath caught.

“This boy’s name is Rick Jones,” Jarvis said. Although he tried to keep his composure, his own anxiousness spilled through. “He says he has a message for you, Mr. Rogers.”

Sharon cut Steve off, already snapping on a glove and signalling to one of her officers. “Rick, was it? Det. Sharon Carter, I’m going to have to see that letter, and I need to speak with you.”

Rick looked terrified at Sharon, but when he spoke, his voice didn’t shake. “A guy just gave it to me, said to take it here. I was just in the park, and-”

The police took Rick to get a statement. Sharon said they would need to get prints off the letter, but, of course, Steve could read it. She spread it out carefully. Instead of being chopped up bits from magazines and newspapers, it was hand written. That surprised all around.

“We’ll run an analysis across that, see if we can find anything from there,” Sharon said.

Steve took in a shaky breath and read the letter.

_2 BILLION DOLLARS FOR THE BOY_

_INSTRUCTIONS TO COME, ALONG WITH PROOF WE HAVE HIM._

That was all. Steve clenched his fists, wanting to lash out at something, anything.

But hopefully, _hopefully_ , Ian was still alive and well.

Tony stood behind him, hand on his shoulder. Tony squeezed comfortingly, and Steve covered Tony’s hand with his own.

“Hey,” Rachel said, from where she stood next to Jan, “I’m sorry, but can I see that closer?”

Sharon raised an eyebrow, but she let Rachel approach. Rachel bent down to look at the letter, and then she sucked in a tight breath.

“I know who wrote this,” Rachel said. She had suddenly gone pale. In an instant, Jan was beside her, wrapping an arm around her to steady her. “I know.”

Sharon wanted to speak with Rachel alone, but Steve insisted on being there. Rachel sat with Jan beside her, Jan holding Rachel’s hands in Rachel’s lap. She explained, in a shaky voice, about a guy she used to know, an old gang leader she knew when she was a kid. When she was done, she closed her eyes tightly. Jan leaned in, whispering in her ear, one hand rubbing circles over her back.

“Crossbones,” Sharon muttered under her breath. “Guy’s a mercenary. Homicide caught his boss a few years ago for a string of deaths, didn’t catch him, though.”

“But this gives you something to go on,” Steve insisted. “This means you can find him, right?”

“It means Ms. Erwin isn’t working alone,” Sharon said. “No way she could afford this guy on her own.”

Steve growled low in his throat, and unkind images came to mind. “Hey,” Tony said, drawing him away, “at least we know it’s not about him.”

It was small comfort.

Steve couldn’t rest until he had his boy back.

\--

Jet (that was her name) gave him both dinner and breakfast. At least, Ian thought it was dinner and breakfast. Like the previous meal, it was cheap and greasy fast food. Ian would think it was the best food in the world if he were eating it back home.

In that dark room, though, it gave him a stomachache.

As he was eating his fries (he was still hungry, even if his tummy hurt,) he took a moment to watch Jet. She said if he was just obedient, he would go home soon. But Ian didn’t believe he was ever going home. Not unless his dad came to save him. Every time the door opened, he looked hopefully up, but it was only ever a man in a mask or Jet.

The masked man didn’t pay any attention to him. There was a secret door hidden in the wall that he went through regularly. But Jet paid attention to Ian. “Why are you nice to me?” Ian asked.

Jet scoffed. “This isn’t nice, kid.”

Ian ate another fry, looking down at his crossed legs. “You give me food.”

“My job,” she said. But she scooted closer so that her back was against the wall. “Kind of.”

Ian offered his plate. “You can have the rest.”

Jet eyed the plate for a moment before taking it. She ate the rest quickly and licked her fingers clean.

“How old are you?”

Jet was taken aback by the question. “Thirteen in a few months,” she said at last.

Ian thought to his birthday. “I’m five,” he said. “Me and my dad had our birthday last week.”

“Bet you got a lot of good presents.” Jet sounded angry, and Ian wasn’t sure why.

“I got Jewel. She’s a dog.” Ian pulled his knees up. “I hope she hasn’t forgotten me.”

Ian didn’t expect Jet’s hand to come rest on his shoulder. “Sure, she will, kid. Dogs are like that.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“What’s with all the questions?” Jet frowned at him.

Ian glanced away. “I’m bored…” he said in a small voice.

Part of him knew that being bored shouldn’t be his priority. But his stomach hurt, he missed his dad, and he’d been sitting alone in that room for hours. Bored was mixed up in all of that, in that pain and fear, and he was tired, too.

Jet was almost like a friend.

“No,” she said after a moment.

“I do,” Ian said. “‘Cept I’m not supposed to tell anyone.” He waited, but Jet didn’t say anything. She just looked at the ground. She looked sad. “I just have a picture,” Ian continued. “But she was real pretty. Like you.”

Jet’s face reddened, but Ian didn’t comment. Jan had told him once never to comment on a lady blushing. Jet counted as a lady, Ian was pretty sure.

“She told my dad to take care of me in big letters on the back.” He heard Jet suck in a breath. “I wish I had a sister for real, though. Not just in a picture.”

A moment more passed. Then, out of nowhere, Jet jerked Ian until he was looking on her. Her eyes were wide and she stared, mouth open.

“What-” Ian began, but then Jtet pulled him hard to her chest in a tight hug. She wrapped her body around him, holding on to him tightly. Ian could feel her shake, like she was crying. But she didn’t make a sound.

Jet pulled away, but kept her arms around Ian. “Don’t tell anyone else that, promise,” she said in an urgent whisper. “Not a word.”

Ian nodded, scared of how intense she was.

She pulled him for another tight hug, and then she let go. “I’ll be back, promise. Just stay here, okay?”

Again, he nodded.

Jet glanced over her shoulder at the secret door before shutting the main door. Ian wrapped his arms around himself, feeling more alone than before.

\--

The man in the mask came back, and someone else was with him, a tall thin man who looked like he smelled something rotten. He didn’t even notice Ian at first, and just kept talking to the masked man.

“-and add a little something extra in the mix, too,” he said as he walked in. “Mr. Khan may be an Oriental, but he has deep pockets.”

“Sure,” the masked man says. “Whatever you say.”

Ian curled in on himself, but that only drew the attention of the tall man. He looked with disgust at Ian. “You didn’t tie him up?”

“He’s a shit-scared toddler, ain’t gonna be mounting any attacks, now, is he?”

The tall man snorted. “Either way, stick a bag over his head, at least.”

“Yeah, yeah…” The masked man came closer to Ian, and Ian pressed himself tightly against the wall. But there wasn’t anywhere he could go, and a moment later, the man forced a zip tie around his hands and a black sack over his head.

The room was completely dark now, and Ian shook in terror. He cried silently, wishing for his dad.

The tall man kept talking. “Stane’s man will be arriving soon with our fee. No word from Hammer, yet, though. If he doesn’t pay up by midnight, send someone to his place.”

“It’d be my pleasure,” the masked man replied.

“No, I need you here.”

He heard the secret door open, and they started walking down the stairs that it opened up to. As their voices faded away, he caught a few more words, things he didn’t understand. “Hammer” came up again. Then there was mention of payouts, shipments, and merchandise. At last, their voices were gone.

Ian didn’t know how long it was before they returned.

“If any of this goes missing, of course, I’m holding you responsible,” the tall man said.

“Cross my heart, boss, won’t say a word.”

“Good.”

Ian could hear him walk to the regular door and open it. Once shut, with presumably the tall man on the other side, the masked man snorted. “Yeah, fuck you, too.”

The masked man paced a moment. “Wouldn’t be here at all if the crew were still together. One day, gonna have a lot of fun slitting your neck.”

The masked man’s steps came closer and then the bag was ripped off Ian’s head. The man gripped his hair, which was a couple inches now, and pulled out a knife. Ian bit back a scream.

“Cool it, kid, or I will take an ear.” The man jerked Ian’s head up a little, which hurt, but then the tension broke when the man moved the knife close to his head. Ian saw the man tuck some of his hair into an envelope.

“One of these days, Zola,” the man said as he left, “you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

Ian shook for a long time. He was still tied at the wrists. He buried his head in his knees and cried some more.

\--

He wasn’t sure how much later it was. He was hungry, really hungry. But Jet hadn’t come at all.

Just as Ian thought she had abandoned him, she slipped into the room. She placed a finger to her lips and cast a glance behind her.

“I’m going to get you out,” she said in a whisper. “But you have to do exactly as I say.” She looked scary, with an angry frown.

Ian nodded. Jet glanced down at his hands. “Shit,” she said. “I’ll be right back, but just sit tight.”

Ian nodded again.

Jet slipped out again. It wasn’t long after that the door opened again, but this time it was the masked man. He didn’t pay any attention to Ian as he passed through the room to the secret door and went down the stairs.

Jet was in the room only a moment later. “We’ve got to go,” she said in a whisper, “before he comes back.”

She held out a knife and cut the tie around Ian’s wrists. She clutched his shoulder, and though she didn’t mean to, the knife ended up in his face. “Exactly as I say. Remember that.”

Ian nodded.

They slipped out of the room. Jet told him to press himself against the opposite wall. Ian wasn’t sure why, but she glanced up. He followed her gaze, and directly above them was a camera. Currently, it was pointed down the hall, away from the room they had just come out of. It panned slowly back toward the room, and when it was fully fixed on the doorway, Jet pulled at him.

“Stick to the wall,” she said. She reached out and took his hand tightly in hers.

Ian followed her. It was like a game of leapfrog where they raced from underneath each camera. They had to get the timing just right, and Jet ran hunched over. She didn’t tell Ian to, though, so he just followed. They went down another couple halls, until they ended up at a set of stairs. Twice on the way, Jet had pulled up short, shoving Ian behind her. There were footsteps that came and went, and the second time, Ian saw someone pass by. He shook with fear and swallowed thickly. But no one saw them.

Jet dragged him down, taking the stairs quickly. Ian soon was panting to try to keep up. They didn’t go all the way down. She stopped on a floor that had a big 2 next to it. She opened it just a crack, peeking out, before pulling Ian through it.

They didn’t repeat their camera trick here, but Jet whispered in his ear to move as quietly as possible. After that, every step to Ian sounded like a huge crash. This floor looked like offices, which was strange to Ian. They kept going, and then they pushed their way into a room.

This room was a janitor’s closet, with brooms, a mop, and shelves upon shelves of cleaner. There was a sink to one side, next to the far wall. Ian glanced up and saw a small, rectangular window near the top of the wall.

Jet led him back to the sink. “You’re going to have to go first,” she said. “I need to lift you. When you get through the window, there’s a small ledge a few feet down. You shouldn’t have any trouble reaching it. It’s narrow, but you’re little, it should be fine. Just stay there, okay? I’ll be right behind you.”

Ian nodded, feeling like he was going to be sick. He watched as Jet propped open the window with a broom that she wedged into one of the shelves to keep it in place. She climbed into the sink and motioned for Ian to join her.

She helped hoist him in, and then she pushed him up against the wall, lifting him up toward the window.

He reached it with the edges of his fingers, and, with Jet’s help, pulled himself up and through.

Ian froze when he was halfway out, his legs still dangling inside. He could go toppling head first into the alley. He clung to the window frame, shaking and wanting to cry. But Jet muttered beneath him, “It’s okay, just swing your body around and lower yourself to the edge. It’s okay, you’ll be fine.”

Ian gulped before inching his legs around, clutching onto the window sill so hard, it hurt his hands.

He saw the ledge below, but it looked so far away. But he had no other way to go. He couldn’t pull himself back in. He lowered himself, walking his feet down the side of the building, over the bricks, which made him feel like a spider. He almost giggled at that, but fear won out. Finally, his grip starting to slip, his feet reached the ledge, and he let go.

He pressed himself tightly against the wall, but there was nothing to hold on to. The bricks were rough against his palms and cheeks, but Ian pressed himself closer.

Jet came down beside him, far more graceful than he was. She nodded behind Ian. “We have to go that way,” she said. “Come on, just inch along, you’ll be fine.”

Ian squeezed himself along the wall. From the noises Jet was making, he was going too slow, but Ian couldn’t move any faster. He didn’t realize how far they had gone, until Jet said, “Wait.”

They weren’t very far from the street, but Ian didn’t know how they were going to get down. Then Jet crouched down and slid off the ledge onto a large, green dumpster. The black top buckled slightly under her weight.

“Just jump,” she said.

Ian stared. It seemed way too far away.

“Jump!”

Ian didn’t so much jump as tumble down. He landed hard, hurting both his knees and wrists, but he didn’t have time to focus on that, because Jet was pulling him down off the dumpster. They made a dash for the street, and they kept running. They ran across the street, dodging the cars. There was honking and yelling, but Jet kept running with Ian in tow.

They ducked between the buildings going through one alley, then down a block to go through another. Ian couldn’t breathe; he gasped and puffed, but Jet just kept running and didn’t let go of his hand.

They ran until, without warning, they ran straight into a policeman. Jet tried to scramble away, still clutching Ian’s hand, but the officer caught her arm. “Hey, hey, cool it, kid!”

Then everything passed in a blur. In minutes, there were more police, and then there was Sam, out of nowhere, and he was pulling Ian into a hug. Ian kept hold of Jet’s hand through all it, but he was crying, and he thought that that Sam was crying, too.

They were all bundled into the back of the police car, and it was no time at all before they were pulling up in front of the house. There were police all over, keeping the photographers at bay, but when the door opened and his dad ran out, Ian didn’t care about anything else. He flung himself at his dad, who swept him up and inside. Both cried, and then Tony was there, too, with Jewel yapping at their feet.

Ian clung tightly to his dad, determined to never, ever let him go.


	10. Chapter 10

Stane and Hammer were arrested for kidnapping. They ratted on Arnim Zola. He had a twelve-year-old daughter who was placed into foster. There wasn’t much Steve could do for her, not now, but Sam promised he’d use his contacts to try to get some place good for her. Neither she nor Zola mentioned anything about knowing who Ian was, for which Steve was grateful.

He was so glad to have Ian back, to have him safe and sound. And with Zola behind bars and unaware of who Ian was to him, then Steve wouldn’t have to worry. Not from Zola.

He would still have to worry about those who wanted to target Tony through Ian. But they would take precautions against that. They learned from this. Steve would never let Ian be taken again.

Stane’s company went to his son. Hammer’s went to Ophelia Sarkissian. Either way, their interests no longer were tied up with Stark Industries, which was finally on its way to becoming Stark International.

It took time, a lot of time, for Ian to not cling to Steve in his sleep. But eventually, Jewel, now bigger than Ian, became a better substitute, and he wouldn’t sleep without her in the bed, too.

For the first time in years, Steve found he was being pushed out. It was better this way, better for Ian to find support elsewhere. But he missed how Ian used to fit in his arms as they slept.

Ian hadn’t changed, but he was more careful. He didn’t go running off without looking first, making sure that someone was watching him. He had learned a little caution didn’t hurt.

\--

Things went back to normal for Ian. Well, the new normal. They didn’t move back to their old home, but that was okay with Ian now. He liked the new home. And he liked Tony, even if he did always do gross stuff like kiss his dad.

Best of all, he spent most of his days playing with his friends. His dad would take him to see Tommy and Billy or they would come over. Clint took him and Kate out to Central Park or to a museum. Some days, his dad took him to visit with Tony for lunch, and he would get to play with Cassie while her dad watched them. Other days, he and Cassie would also play with America and Eli at their old home, while his dad visited his friends there.

Best best of all was being able to bring Jewel. She was getting big, really big, and she made everyone jealous, because she was the best dog. At Christmas, Ian got her to pull him in his new wagon. Jewel didn’t mind, she happily tugged Ian along, but his dad got a little mad at that.

His dad spent a lot more time in his art studio. He also set up an office in the mansion, where he could often be found on the computer and on the phone, doing more management of the Arnie Roth Foundation. Once, Ian heard his dad thank Tony for having kept it going all these years.

Parties came and went, but the one his dad was really excited about was the Foundation’s art show. Two of the rooms in the mansion slowly got filled with tons of donated art work for it. He caught his dad talking excitedly with one of the lawyers, and she was showing him a delicate glass horse.

It was beautiful, but Ian wasn’t allowed to touch. Ian didn’t mind. It was still pretty to look at. He told the lawyer this.

“Quite the gentleman,” the lawyer said with a smile.

“That he is,” his dad said. Ian grinned at the look his dad gave him.

\--

The art show was in just a few days, and Ian’s dad was out with Jan and Rachel doing some last minute shopping for it.

Ian was playing in the backyard with Jewel, Clint keeping an eye on him. He was bundled up, and Jewel loved jumping around in the snow. Jewel chased him down, gently tackling him to the ground. She stood above him, licking his face, and Ian shrieked with delight.

There was a clapping, and with a happy bark, Jewel ran over to Tony. Tony used both hands to scratch her head, which only got her more excited. “Hey, kiddo,” Tony said, “Clint.”

“Tony!” Ian followed Jewel and fell on top of her. She swerved her head around to lick him some more. He grinned up at Tony, and then buried his face in Jewel’s fur. Her fur was cold from the air and snow and smelled a little bitter, but Ian loved it.

Tony said Clint could go home; he’d taken the day off early to spend some time with Ian. “That okay?”

Ian nodded. Tony brought him in for hot chocolate. Jewel chewed on a bone on her rug in the kitchen, while they sat at one of the counters. “Can I have marshmallows?” Ian asked.

Tony smiled. “That is a very good idea,” he said. He stood up and rooted through the cabinets. “Now where are they…”

“That one,” Ian said, pointing to the right cabinet. His dad and Jarvis gave him marshmallows occasionally (Jarvis more often than his dad), so he knew right where they were.

“Thanks.” Tony filled Ian's cup up with marshmallows, and then poured them into his own. “Mmm,” he said, “you are a genius.”

Ian giggled.

“You know, Ian, I’d like to speak with you about something important.”

Tony had a very serious expression on his face; Ian looked down into his mug. “I didn’t mean to peek,” he said.

“What?” Tony said. “What did you peak at?”

Ian shut his mouth tight. If Tony didn’t know that he had accidentally seen his dad’s birthday present for Tony, he wasn’t going to keep talking about it. But if it wasn’t about that, Ian had no idea what Tony wanted to talk about.

Tony waited a moment longer before he looked defeated. He said, “You know your dad and I have been together for a long time.” Tony grimaced. “Minus a five year break up. Anyway.” He drummed his fingers on the counter. Ian could tell he was nervous about something. Nervous and Tony usually didn’t go together. “I really love him. You understand that?”

Ian nodded. “He loves you, too.”

That made Tony smile warmly, which made his eyes crinkle. Ian liked when Tony smiled like that.

“I wanted to know if you’d be okay if I asked him to marry me.”

Ian stared at Tony.

“I know I’m just Tony to you,” he continued, fingers still drumming against the counter, “and I’m not great at being a father. Your dad has that area wrapped up. But I care for him, and I care for you, and I’d like to ask Steve to marry me.”

This was important to Tony, that Ian say yes. He could see how much Tony wanted him to. For Ian, he didn’t really care. Marriage was something that grown ups did, like kissing, which was gross. But it made his dad happy, and it made Tony happy. Ian shrugged. “Okay. If Daddy says yes.”

Tony’s smile grew.

“You know, Ian, even if I can’t be a father to you, I’m looking forward to being your friend.”

Ian giggled, because Tony was being silly. “You are my friend.”

He wasn’t sure why Tony bit his lip and ran a thumb under an eye over that, but he did. Once their hot chocolate was done, Tony took him to his lab to show him something new he was working on - a present for Ian. Jewel had to stay outside, but Ian was going to tell her all about it after.

\--

Spring would be arriving soon, but it was still cold. That night, the temperature dropped, and they built up a fire in one of the salons. Ian and Jewel curled up on the floor, Ian slowly practicing to read. Steve leaned against Tony on the couch, a blanket wrapped tightly around them.

“And the… the…” Ian said, getting stuck on a word. “This is too hard.”

“Sound it out,” Tony said. “Letter by letter. Just like the puzzles I tell you I do all day.”

Ian nodded and looked at the book again. “And the bah… bahla… reen… a.. ballerina! And the ballerina sp… spun back.”

“Good work,” Steve murmured. He could fall asleep like this. Tony’s thumb rubbed gently back and forth over his bicep.

“Tony?”

“Yeah, kid/”

“When are you going to ask Dad to marry you?”

That woke Steve up. “Marry?” He looked up at Tony who was looking more than a little grim. “Now when did this come up?”

“I‘ve been meaning to discuss it with you, the time just never seemed right,” Tony said.

“Right. Not when we had that romantic dinner last week or, better yet, were discussing our financial future?”

Tony shrugged a shoulder. “Timing.”

“Hmm….” Steve watched Jewel give Ian a comfort lick before putting her head back down. “It’s yes, by the way.”

“What?”

Steve extracted himself from Tony. “Do I have to repeat myself?”

Tony pretended to think about it for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind, but if that’s going to change your answer, then no. You don’t.”

Steve leaned in for a kiss, happy to be surrounded by his family.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Banner] We've Been On This Path Before](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2484713) by [Knowmefirst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knowmefirst/pseuds/Knowmefirst)




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